The Deeply Formed Life

we are reminded that our souls were not created for the kind of speed to which we have grown accustomed. Thus, we are a people who are out of rhythm, a people with too much to do and not enough time to do it.

Our lives can easily take us to the brink of burnout. The pace we live at is often destructive. The lack of margin is debilitating. We are worn out. In all of this, the problem before us is not just the frenetic pace we live at but what gets pushed out from our lives as a result; that is, life with God.

Educator and activist Parker Palmer makes a compelling case that burnout typically does not come about because we’ve given so much of ourselves that we have nothing left. He tells us, “It merely reveals the nothingness from which I was trying to give in the first place.”

God is committed to our transformation. He is not in the business of simply improving our lives; he wants to infuse them with his life. Every day, he moves toward us in love, reaching, seeking, and pleading with us to pay attention. This is the essence of contemplative rhythms—the goal of monastic life.

There’s been much talk in our culture about the benefits of mindfulness. The difference between mindfulness and silent prayer is communion with a person. The object of mindfulness is often better psychological and physical health (very important things), but the object of silent prayer is communion with God.

There is no such thing as being professionals at prayer. We are always beginners. There are instances when I spend time with God in silence and can sense his love and mercy, but then there are occasions when I feel that it was time wasted. But like with most of our closest relationships, even in the ordinary moments, our shared presence is a gift.

Think of boredom during silent prayer as an act of purification. In this uneventful moment, God purifies us of the false god of good feelings. While good feelings are gifts, they can easily become ends in themselves. We can move from worshipping the living God to worshipping our spiritual experiences. This is a fine line we must be mindful of. The ever-urgent need for people growing in relationship with God is the willingness to endure moments that are far from inspirational.

Sabbath keeping is a weekly twenty-four-hour period of unhurried delight with no have-tos or ought-tos, resulting in deep rest and renewal.

One of the more painful realities of Sabbath keeping is that some of our work will remain incomplete. We often tell ourselves, When I finish everything, then I will rest. But when does it end? There’s always more work to be done. Consequently, the pressure and anxiety we feel about the incomplete work is one of the biggest obstacles to keeping Sabbath.

Unless we are immersing ourselves in Scripture for the purpose of being encountered by God (not merely observing the text), we will find our formations in Christ limited. God has spoken in Jesus and has spoken through his written Word. We are invited to slowly enter into that world.

It is my conviction that the gospel at its core is not merely the good news of a soteriological transaction (a fancy way of saying “getting saved”). The gospel at its core is centrally about the story and victory of Jesus; the risen and enthroned Lord is our good news. And further, this gospel has specific purposes for the healing of our world. One of the main purposes is the creation of a new family that transcends racial and ethnic barriers.

In the calling of his disciples, Jesus put people together who would most certainly not follow each other on Twitter. Yet in the forming of this small community, he was symbolically making a statement that in the kingdom of God, a new family was being created. A quick glance at two of the disciples brings out this truth. Consider Matthew and Simon the Zealot (see Matthew 10:3–4). Matthew worked for the government; Simon hated the government. Matthew was a tax collector; Simon was a tax protester. Matthew collected revenue for the Romans; Simon was a rebel against the Romans. Matthew was wealthy; Simon was working class. Matthew made a living taking advantage of people like Simon; Simon made a living trying to kill people like Matthew.

American philosopher Dr. Cornel West said, “Justice is what love looks like in public.”

While we are all called to listen to one another in the bond of peace, the ones who need to listen first and more often are those who have enjoyed the privileges of social power. This is a deeply Christ-centered way of being. The one who has power or has benefited from the ways power has socially arranged his or her world must be called upon to lead the way in listening. For the same reason, men must lead the way in listening first and more often to women, as they have thoroughly held power and have enjoyed the benefits of a world ordered by patriarchy. So too must wealthy, upwardly mobile men and women listen first and more often to the experiences of poor and working-class people. They have enjoyed the benefits of wealth and power and are often far removed from the plights of the poor.

Sin is the word Christians use to name not simply our failed acts but also our inner and outer captivity. If we embrace a fuller understanding of the nature of sin, knowledge of self extends beyond our obvious acts of transgression or our insufficiency to save ourselves. It also extends to the limits and failure of living lives marked by wholeness. God in Christ takes on our sin that we may live forgiven, free, and whole. This wholeness extends to every aspect of life.

“Emotion is a more or less unconscious, but at the same time vitally important physical response to internal or external events—such things as fear of thunderstorms, rage at having been deceived, or the pleasure that results from a present we really desire. By contrast, the word ‘feeling’ designates a conscious perception of an emotion.”

Pete and Geri Scazzero created a straightforward, powerful tool called Explore the Iceberg. The tool offers four simple questions that the most intelligent and educated have struggled to respond to. It’s a helpful guide for cultivating a life of interior examination. The four questions are: 1. What are you mad about? 2. What are you sad about? 3. What are you anxious about? 4. What are you glad about?

The key is asking questions that are introspective in nature, such as, Why am I reacting this way? What is causing me to feel this angst? and Why am I so triggered by this person? As we make sense of our reactions, we position ourselves to experience greater freedom.

1. What happened? 2. What am I feeling? 3. What is the story I’m telling myself? 4. What does the gospel say? 5. What counter-instinctual action is needed?

Ron Rolheiser noted that throughout history, there has been a “divorce in Western culture between religion and eros. Like all divorces it was painful, and as in all divorces, the property got divided up: Religion got to keep God and the secular got to keep sex. The secular got passion and the God got chastity.”2 It’s important to point out that in his usage of the word chastity, Rolheiser was critiquing popular notions of how chastity is understood, not diminishing it as a powerful and sacred way of life.

However, before we preach against the ills of addictive behavior and such, we’d do well to appreciate one role that addiction can play in survival. I know that sounds blasphemous to some, but hear me out. Our addiction is our best attempt to survive. Certainly, it leads us down paths of sickness and death, but it is also a signal that we long to live. We just don’t know how, apart from this attempt to self-soothe. This is why when helping someone with any kind of addiction, instead of saying, “Just stop it. Repent of your sin,” we’d do better to say, “You’ve figured out how to stay alive. You’ve learned how to soothe your pain. But this way doesn’t go deep enough. Let’s try something else.”

Our most effective strategy in reaching a world for Christ is grounded in the kind of people we are being formed into. The quality of our presence is our mission.

In some Christian traditions, doing is often at the expense of being. In others, being is often at the expense of doing. We need a life of doing that flows from being.

wholeheartedly believe that God has already begun a conversation with someone long before I arrive. If it is true, as Paul declares in Acts 17:28, that in God “we live and move and have our being,” every person on the face of this planet is already, on some level, being encountered by God. The individual might not be able to cognitively perceive it or receive it, but Christian theology assumes God’s active presence all over the world. What’s needed is for Christ followers to discern God’s presence rather than assuming his absence.

We have incorrectly understood extroversion to be a spiritual gift that everyone must cultivate. But we need not think that this is what we signed up for. To be on mission is a multifaceted endeavor. God invites us to consider our personalities, context, and experiences and, out of who we are, discerningly participate in what he is already doing. Being on mission doesn’t require us to be intrusive, awkward, and coercive. It should be a normal experience.

In the practice of hospitality, the goal is not to convert anyone (as if we could). The objective is not to corner someone and obtrusively preach at him or her. The reason we are hospitable is to open our hearts to others in the way God has opened his heart to us. I have found that as spaces are created, conversations on faith naturally emerge.

Henri Nouwen said, “Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place.”2

But biblical justice is more than punishment of wrongdoing. The Hebrew word for justice is mishpat. Although the meaning of this word in Scripture includes the punishment of wrongdoing, it predominantly means giving people what they are due as human beings made in the image of God. In the words of pastor and apologist Tim Keller, mishpat “is giving people what they are due, whether punishment or protection or care.”5