Power in Weakness

In a not-so-subtly-named book, You Deserve the Love of God , the author argues we are hindered from enjoying salvation because of our perceived unworthiness. The back cover claims, “The residue of shame whispers, ‘…but I don’t deserve it.’ This issue is deeply ingrained in our Christianity. We have inherited a false theology in the basic unworthiness of the human creature.” This issue has been on my mind lately because just a week ago or so, a celebrity pastor tweeted something to the same effect as the above book title, and was then taken to task by other more conservative commentators. It’s not a new controversy, of course, but it appears to be one that is quite relevant to the current conversation. Personally, I’ve received mixed signals over the years on whether I “deserve” the love of God or not, even in the theological circles I have run in. If you’ll allow me to commit the sin of over-generalizing, I could say that in the so-called Charismatic/inner-healing streams I have he

"God does nothing but by prayer, and everything with it." --John Wesley I was convinced early on in my journey of faith that the above quote from Wesley was indeed true. This is how. First, somebody somewhere told me about Jesus being a Passionate Lover--a Bridegroom--and that His presence could be more pleasurable than drugs, sex, and any other worldly pursuit. With childlike simplicity, I believed it. I began to spend time with Him alone on a sunny bench in southern California near my university dorm room. I would read the Bible and pray. The Bible was confusing, to be sure, but every once in awhile a verse would make sense and feel slightly relevant to my life. Prayer and worship, though, became the sweet spot. Perhaps the book of Isaiah did not offer me much in my early days as a Christian, but focusing on the beauty of Jesus and His love for me in worship never failed to produce gratitude, desire, and joy in my heart. I discovered the truth of King David's words, &qu

When it was my turn to share in the small group, I simply said, "I just want to serve God in a way that brings me joy and helps other people." They all nodded understandingly, and soon it was the next person's turn to speak.     That was my heart cry in 2016 in an early morning meeting with a handful of church leaders. I was a full time sixth grade teacher at that moment, and I was quite aware that it would most likely be a brief chapter in my life story. Middle school education is a noble occupation (seriously, if that's you I salute you), one that I even enjoyed at times, but I just knew it wasn't for me. Thus the comment.     I remember it vividly because it so captured the longing of that season. Four years later, now working at a church part time, it's still something I'm yearning for, something that feels closer but still just out of my reach. What was I made to do? I keep asking. It's like a windy mountain road where the going is slow and you