Michael Kelley's Blog, page 10

What I Learned About Spiritual Discipline from a Dry-Land Farmer

This summer I was driving through an area of West Texas with my dad. It’s one of those areas where you can still see for literally miles in every direction, your view across the vast fields only obstructed by the occasional windmill or central pivot irrigation system.

We were driving, and we were talking, which is always a great thing to do with my dad because he’s one of these guys that are rapidly disappearing who has a great amount of knowledge in a tremendously wide array of subjects. He was the son of farmers, who were the children of farmers who were the children of farmers. So my dad grew up learning how to fix just about anything he could put his hands to, and then only later decided to become a statistics professor which he has been for the last 35 or so years.

So we were talking. This time, about farming. And my dad was pointing out different tracts of land, who they belonged to, and what kind of farming they did, when he pointed out one area that was dry land.

So I asked the most logical question of a guy who didn’t grow up on a farm: “What does that mean?” And that’s when my dad explained that dry land is exactly what it sounds like – it’s land that it intentionally not irrigated. This is the purest kind of farming, where you plow the fields, plant the crops, and wait for the rain. While it takes certainly a greater risk, because you truly are operating in the realm of faith, dry land farming can also be very lucrative.

He recounted something my grandfather used to say about the subject, that because of the huge cost of irrigation, a farmer really only needed the dry land to produce a good crop once every ten years in order to get by. It struck me, both then and now, that there is a relatable point here for spiritual discipline.

You know as well as I do that some mornings – maybe many mornings – that your time with the Lord just feels dry. So dry that you wonder if the rain is ever going to come again. So dry that you wonder if the time you put into prayer and studying and memorizing the Word of God is even worth it.

So what do you do? On the one hand, you could simply determine that it’s not in fact worth it. You could cash it in. You could close that book and leave it there beside you on the table, and instead look for something else that’s a little more emotionally gratifying in the moment. Or, you can continue to plow.

You can continue to do the hard work, day after day – and maybe year after year. You can continue to sweat and toil, but most of all, you can continue to believe. You can choose the road of faith that, eventually, your feelings will catch up to what you know to be true. You can continue to break up the hard ground of your heart and sow the seed of the word inside those cracked and parched places.

Because you know, that even in this dry land, the rain will eventually fall. And you will be ready when it does.

One Principle to Remember in Biblical Application

What do you expect to find when you read the Bible? Ask that question to a hundred people and you’ll probably get a number of different answers:

Old stories.Lasting truth.Guidance for making decisions.Comfort.

And the list could go on and on. In some ways, all these things are right answers, but they aren’t the MAIN answer. The MAIN answer points us to the MAIN purpose of the Bible. The Bible is God’s Word. As His Word, it is His revelation. In its pages, then, we find God’s revelation of Himself, and that’s the main purpose of the Bible. It’s not to tell us what to do or give us a roadmap for life; it’s meant to show us who God is because everything else in life flows from that understanding.

God breathed out this revelation of Himself so that we might know what He is like, and so that we might worship and follow Him rightly. He did not leave us in the dark about who He is or our origin in Him, but instead gave us this word which is perfect. Unalterable. Unchanging. This is the nature of the Bible, and it’s in that understanding and acceptance that we can rightly understand all the other above answers.

So before we start to apply the Bible to our lives – which we really should do – we have to understand that the main purpose of the Bible is not to find life application, but instead to encounter God. Having understood that, we also should recognize that the Bible was not written in a vacuum; it was written to and for specific people in specific situations at specific times. This is the context of the Bible.

But does that mean the Bible wasn’t written to you? Well, yes. At least not originally. But at the same time, we believe that the Bible is God-breathed and inspired, and because it is, we believe it is “alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart” (Heb. 4:12). That means it is as truthful and applicable today as it was to the people it was originally written to.

When we want to apply the Bible, we have to take into account both of these dynamics, which leads us to one important principle in biblical application:

Even though it wasn’t written TO me, the Bible was still written FOR me.

That means if we want to rightly apply the Bible, we need to first understand the original purpose. The original intent. The original situation which the Bible addresses. This is the context. And only after we understand that can we understand how that principle rightly applies to us today. Maybe a little illustration might help:

There is a passage in Leviticus that specifically prohibited the people of God from plowing to the edges of their fields:

“When you reap the harvest of your land, you are not to reap to the very edge of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Do not strip your vineyard bare or gather its fallen grapes. Leave them for the poor and the resident alien; I am the Lord your God” (Lev. 19:9-10).

Now you might look at that passage and think, Well I’m not a farmer, and I don’t know anything about farming. So I can just skip this one and pick it up when things get more interesting.

And, true enough, these verses weren’t written TO you in your suburban or urban context. But they were written FOR you. So with that principle in mind, you can look a little deeper and ask why it is that this command was given to begin with.

God did not want His people going to the edge. He wanted them to have some margin. This command, though, wasn’t just about preserving His own people. He didn’t tell them to create this kind of margin because doing so is personally healthy and psychologically balanced. He gave the command for the sake of other people who might wander into those fields.

God is so concerned about the poor and the foreigners that He built in a means into the regular life of His people in order to provide food for them. He made sure that the people didn’t harvest all the way to the edges of the field. Some days the people might not come; other days they would. Regardless, the edges of the field were “just in case.”

Just in case there is someone traveling who needs food.Just in case you have the chance to share with someone who is in need.Just in case someone else needs to feed their family.Just in case the leftovers can be useful after all for something other than giving you more.

And this is where the passage that wasn’t written TO us becomes FOR us. This command defies the constant call of our culture for “more.” We live in a margin-less world. Our calendars are booked with meetings and appointments end to end. So are our pocketbooks. In fact, everything from our time to our money is pretty much spoken for. We are plowing to the end of the fields. In fact, we are going back over the fields of our lives a second and third time, looking for any spare cent or second that has not been accounted for.

Let us, then, recognize that the Bible is indeed FOR us. But we understand how it’s FOR us only when we see who it was originally TO.

3 Challenges to Creating a Gospel Culture in Your Family

Every environment you enter into has a culture. Your workplace, a restaurant, a church – even your own home has a culture all its own. The culture of an environment is like the set of unwritten rules that people abide by while in that particular environment. It’s not just about behavior – it’s about how you think. How you feel. And then, of course, how you behave. And it’s a powerful thing.

Here’s the thing, though – culture is going to be created with or without our help. We would be wise, then, to recognize this fact and take an active role in culture formation in those environments in which we can. And we ought to consider carefully not just how we talk about the gospel, but how we take an active role in forming a gospel culture in our homes.

That is to say, can we ingrain the gospel so much in the way that we talk, the way we think, the way we discipline our children, the way we converse around the dinner table, that it’s part of our very fabric of living, and not just an occasional topic of conversation? I hope so. I pray so.

But there are obstacles to creating this kind of culture in our families. These are obstacles that, in my view, run contrary to the nature of free grace, and obstacles we ought to be aware of if we want to actively shape our culture in a gospel-centered way.

1. The pressure of activities.

Boy, I feel this. There are so many opportunities for our kids. Sports, music, art – you name it. They’re all there. And our kids, like most kids, want to do a bunch of them. What’s more, there is a kind of pressure when you talk to other families to be involved in this activity or that one. Maybe it’s even more than pressure, though – maybe there is a little fear on our part as parents that our kids are going to be missing out on something if we say “no” to a certain activity. That inability to say no, no matter what the cost might be, is the rub.

The pressure of these activities is an obstacle to a gospel-centered culture because we can easily, both for ourselves as parents and on behalf of our children, start to measure our worth and value based on our participation in everything. That basis of personal worth in these activities runs contrary to a gospel-infused culture of self-worth based on the love of Jesus alone.

2. The desire to be popular.

I would have thought I had outgrown this by now. After all, I’m not in middle school any more. But the pull is still there, just as the “right crowd” of people is still there. If it’s there for us as parents, surely it’s there for our kids as well. It’s that desire to be well-liked, at near any cost, that runs so contrary to the gospel. And that cost is more than we can bear. We find ourselves overscheduling, refusing to tell the truth, spending money irresponsibly, and all other kinds of things. And why?

To sit at the right proverbial lunch table.

In a gospel-centered culture, we recognize the difference between the praise of men (or of children), and the love and acceptance we only find in Jesus.

3. The pace of the schedule.

If you have multiple kids, then you know the frenetic pace of life that we drift into. We overcommit ourselves and soon find ourselves rushing from this activity to that one, never seeing each other face to face, and even more rarely having an in depth conversation. Time becomes the most precious of commodities, one that we’re always chasing but never getting a true handle on.

The reason the pace of our schedule is an obstacle to a gospel-centered culture in our home is simple – creating a culture like this takes time. Sustained, long period of time. We have to talk, we have to pray, we have to read, we have to cry, we have to laugh – we have to do all these things, and we have to do these things together, centered on Jesus.

When you look at these three things, you begin to see that all three of these things are characteristics of the world in which we are living. That means if we want to establish a different kind of culture in our homes, we are already walking uphill. It’s going to be a fight. But it’s a battle worth fighting.

Christians are Temporarily Strange People

Madeline L’Engle, the author of A Wrinkle in Time among other things, once said this about her faith: “We try to be too reasonable about what we believe. What I believe is not reasonable at all. It’s hilariously impossible.” And she’s right.

Of course, there are reasonable parts of Christianity – it is reasonable, for example, when you look at the complexity of the world around us to conclude that we do not exist by chance but by intelligent design. That’s a reasonable conclusion. But in other ways, the whole Christian faith and the Christian life that results from it is entirely unreasonable. We believe that there was a man born of a virgin who never sinned. And this man was not only a man, but is also God in the flesh. And we believe that this man died on the cross in our place and then was raised from the dead. We believe in an afterlife despite there not being any way to go there or examine it. This is what faith is, and in that way, it is unreasonable. That’s why it is a matter of faith. 

Further, the lives we lead as Christians are strange. Very strange, when you compare them to the normal way of operating in the world. We are a strange people, and Peter knew it. He said as much in 1 Peter 2:11. 

He called us strangers. Exiles. Aliens. People not of this world. 

Then later, in chapter 4, he recognized that strangeness again:

For you have spent enough time in the past doing what pagans choose to do—living in debauchery, lust, drunkenness, orgies, carousing and detestable idolatry. They are surprised that you do not join them in their reckless, wild living, and they heap abuse on you (1 Peter 4:3-4).

He says that the friends and neighbors of these Christians find it very strange when they see their behavior; they don’t fit in any more. They are weird. And they slander them because of their strangeness. 

This is characteristic of what it means to be a Christian in the world, and it always has been. The way the early Christian community treated women, for example, was very strange. In a Roman culture which tended to only ascribe value to women based on their ability to bear children, the Christian idea that all women, regardless of their marital status, were recognized as valuable members of the family of God, was very strange. The fact that Christians regularly remembered the death and resurrection of Jesus by repeating His words that “This is my body, broken for you” and “This is my blood, spilled for you” was strange. So strange that they were accused of cannibalism. Even the earliest Christian confession that Jesus Christ is Lord was very strange because the common confession that linked the Roman Empire together, regardless of your race, was that no matter where you came from, Caesar is Lord. These early people lived so strangely – so differently – that they had to come up with a new name for them in Antioch – they called them “Christians”. 

So Christians are strange, but we are only temporarily strange.

Even though we might be considered strange now, and even judged because we think and act differently, the world is not the final judge. There is another judgment coming. And that judgment, in a sense, is going to bring about what is real normalcy. Because the way we think? The way we act? These are strange things now, but they won’t be strange then. We are the aliens and sojourners now, but we will be the ones at home then. Friends, we are on the road to the true city, and we are already citizens there. And until we get there, we will always feel that sense of strangeness, like we are always just a little out of place. But not forever. 

Someday, we will be home.

The Idol of “How it Should Be”

What is an idol?

We typically think of idols like totem poles – wooden or bronze or iron statues with grotesque faces that people bow before while chanting in low, hushed tones. But the idols of today are less visible, but no less insidious.

In fact, an idol can be anything that you look to for complete and total fulfillment. It’s that thing that you look at and say, “If I could only have.. or do… or be…” Andone of the idols that looms the largest in our culture today is the idol of “how it should be.”

At one point or another, all of us wake up and look at our lives and think: How did I get here? This certainly isn’t how I imagined my life turning out. In fact, it’s more than that – this isn’t how it ought to be at all! 

Whether we are thinking of our job or house or spouse or wealth, we somehow had a different dream about life than what we are living. Now there are certain schools of Christian thought out there that argue that as followers of Christ, you just need to chase that dream. Live with reckless abandon. Get out there and make it happen.

That’s probably not wrong, at least to a point. But that aggressive posture is only helpful and healthy as long as it’s a goal; many times, though, it ceases to become a goal and starts to become an idol. That happens when you put all your stock in whatever that vision is, to the point that you feel as though you will never truly be fulfilled unless you posses _______________ . 

You fill in the blank.

But what is the antidote for such a thing? How can such an idol be smashed to bits? It’s difficult because when “how it should be” is formed into our thinking, it has happened through countless hours of daydreaming and disappointment. It has been built on the foundation of starry-eyed gazes and bitterness in equal measure.

Only the power of the gospel can send that kind of heartfelt, deeply ingrained idol reeling. Only through the Holy Spirit reminding us, over and over again, that we already have everything – every spiritual blessing in Christ – that we can be free.

The gospel gives us the ability to look at the idol of “how it should be” and say, “Enough.” Not because we are content with how little we have, but because we suddenly come to the realization of how rich we already are. May God give us grace to see the richness of what we’ve been given, and may that vision pulverize the idol of “what should be.”

Redeeming the Elusive “Else”

I am recognizing the continual presence of the ever-elusive “else” inside myself. Maybe it’s there for you, too. You might call it “more” or “other”, but it’s the same thing. The elusive “else” is that “thing” that’s out there, somewhere in the distance, that we can never quite get to:

It’s another opportunity.It’s another relationship.It’s more money.It’s increased exposure.It’s more “likes.”It’s greater fame.

It’s something else than what we’ve been given in life. If I’m honest, I think I spend a great deal of time either chasing after or fantasizing about that ever elusive else. And most of the time, I simply try to beat down that desire. I feed myself verses about contentment and satisfaction. I chide myself for my lack of satisfaction. I try to force myself to live in the present and be happy in the moment with what I’ve been given. All those disciplinary actions are appropriate, I guess, but I’m beginning to think that maybe the Lord has “something else” in store for my elusive “else”:

Redemption.

That’s the pattern we see in the life of Paul, specifically, right here:

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus (Phil. 3:12-14).

Notice how active and vigorous the verb is that Paul uses in verse 12 and 14. He says that he is pressing on. In verse 14 it has a competitive, athletic contest feel to it. Maybe Paul is thinking of the Olympic Games which would have been a familiar sight to the Greek Philippians. Those games were originally made up of foot races and in those races the athletes would have to strain at the end, pressing hard towards the goal. The verbs mean “to pursue.” They mean to run hard. They mean to focus your energy and your effort. In fact, they are so vigorous, so competitive, even so violent, that they can be translated as “persecute.” It is the same verb, in fact, that Paul uses a participle of in verse 6:

…as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for righteousness based on the law, faultless.

It seems that Paul is saying that zeal, even to the point of obsession, is neutral. The question is not about zeal; it is about the object of that zeal and whether it is deserving of obsession. For the difference between Paul’s life then and Paul’s life now is not his level of addiction. If anything, he is more preoccupied now than he was then. The difference is that he has finally found something worth being addicted to. He has finally found something worth being obsessed with. He has finally found the proper direction for the elusive “else.”

That’s what redemption is, isn’t it? Isn’t it in a sense God redirecting our passion for one thing to something else? Isn’t it realizing that our pursuit of the elusive else isn’t wrong in and of itself; it’s just misguided. And by His grace, He’s redirecting it onto Himself.

That’s what we can do with our desire for “more” and “other.” By God’s grace, it can be redeemed. And we find that in pursuing God, we simultaneously have more than enough and not enough at all.

5 Tips Toward a Disciplined Life

The Christian life is meant to be a disciplined life. Consider just a couple of passages that bring this out:

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize (1 Cor. 9:24-27).

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us (Heb. 12:1-2).

See it? If the Christian life is a race, then we have to train for it like a race. That means living like an athlete; it means living with discipline. 

But that’s hard, isn’t it? Of course it is – that’s why it’s called “discipline.” It means engaging in habits and patterns of living that don’t come naturally; they only come through concentrated and consistent effort. Now to be clear, the kind of discipline we are talking about isn’t an attempt to earn God’s favor; we already have that because of Jesus. We are talking about discipline that honors God and lives in the middle of grace. Discipline that focuses our minds and hearts.

That kind of discipline is easier said than done. But here are five tips to try and help us get there:

1. Whatever you do, do it in faith. 

The temptation when you engage in spiritual discipline is to emphasize the will. But it doesn’t have to be that way; in fact, if it is that way, our efforts are doomed to fail because our best efforts will run out of steam. Instead, we should focus on faith. We should swing our legs out of bed in belief that God wants to meet with us. We should fast in faith that Jesus is better. We should make the conscious effort to refocus on belief, rather than exclusively the will.

2. Accompany spiritual discipline with physical exercise.

The gospel engages the whole person – mental, spiritual, and even physical. For me, when I am exercising physically it helps me tremendously in spiritual exercise, if for no other reason than it wakes me up and gets the blood pumping.

3. Set yourself up for success.

If we are going to try and read the Bible in the morning, we need to set it out and get it ready the night before. We may need to set the automatic timer on the coffee maker. We definitely need to go to bed early enough the night before in order. We need to do anything we can in advance to make it as easy and convenient as possible for us to be disciplined.

4. Be consistent. 

I’ve tried to set my alarm at a different time each day, according to what I had going on in the day. I would set the alarm for an hour or so before I needed to be somewhere or do something, and each day it was either a little earlier or a little later than the day before. It doesn’t work. When you choose to set your alarm for the same time, you establish a rhythm in your body and it gets a little easier every day.

5. Be realistic.

For me, that means scheduling a day a week for a break. If I know I can sleep a little later on Saturday or Sunday, it helps me on those difficult mornings.

These are simple actions, but they are effective toward achieving the kind of overall disciplined life that honors the Lord. Won’t you, by His grace, give it a try today?

Beware the Sin of Presumption

It was a legitimate solution, and when you think about it, an understandable mistake. In Genesis 12 and then again in Genesis 15, God promised Abram many descendants; indeed God said that his children and their children would outnumber the stars in the sky, and the entire earth would be blessed through him. So Abram knew that it was God’s plan for his life to be the father of a great nation. 

But so far? Nothing. So when Sarai showed up in Genesis 16 with a plan to take the initiative, Abram was on board:

Abram’s wife Sarai had not borne him children. She owned an Egyptian slave named Hagar. Sarai said to Abram, ‘Since the Lord has prevented me from bearing children, go to my slave; perhaps I can have children by her. And Abram agreed to what Sarai said. So Abram’s wife Sarai took Hagar, her Egyptian slave, and gave her to her husband as a wife for him. This happened after Abram had lived in the land of Canaan for 10 years. he slept with Hagar, and she became pregnant (Genesis 16:1-4).

You can certainly understand where this came from, right? I mean, it had been over 10 years since God had promised Abram a child. And the biological clock was already ticking away at that point. They had waited and waited and waited, and then logic took over:

“God promised us we would have a son.”

“We’ve waited for that to happen. Is it possible we misheard Him?”

“We know what His plan is, we just don’t know the specifics of how to get there.”

“Here’s another option to get to where God wants us to be.”

That’s how Ishmael came to be—an effort to get where God wanted Abram and Sarai to be. We can certainly understand their perspective; we might even be able to justify their actions. We can do so because we are familiar with that same line of thinking. 

We have a sense that God has called us to do this or that with our lives, but then the days get long. We get impatient. We start to wonder if we heard Him correctly. And then finally, we take matters into our own hands and presume upon the wisdom, timing, and plan of God.

There is a fine line to walk here between actively waiting for God to fulfill His purposes and promises and becoming a self-promoter. Abram erred to the latter.

Now interestingly enough, centuries later, Paul commented on the whole Ishmal/Isaac situation in the book of Galatians, saying one child was born according to the flesh and one born according to the promise. In the context of Galatians, you might also say that one child represents a life lived by works and one represents a life lived by faith. When we live according to works, we feel like we have to take matters into our own hands. We have to promote our cause. We have to do something. We have to move, to network, to MAKE IT HAPPEN. That is contrasted to a life of faith.

The life of faith frees you from having to promote your own cause. It frees you from presuming upon the promises of God. It frees you to trust and live and wait for God, trusting in His wisdom and timing.

Do you feel as though God has been long in fulfilling His promises to you? Are you growing tired of waiting for Him? Don’t let your impatience and frustration lead you to presumption. Instead, return to the character of the One who promised. And remember that He never fails. Because He doesn’t, we can have the energy and perseverance required to wait for Him.

Is Your Righteousness Better than God’s?

I didn’t used to read the instructions.

I would get a piece of furniture, or some kind of electronic equipment, or decide to take on some kind of home repair, and just start in on it. In my younger days, I didn’t have the time for the whole “measure twice, cut once” principle; it was more of a “just get started and figure it out along the way” kind of vibe.

Now I recognize that for some people, that kind of methodology works; these are the people who have some natural proclivity towards being handy. But I’ve lived long enough to know that’s not true of me. Even when I have been able to muddle my way to some semblance of the end result I was looking for, it wasn’t done in the right way. Consequently, my past is littered with furniture that wobbles, retaining walls that don’t really retain, and dry wall repairs hidden by pictures on the wall. 

So why did it take me so long to start reading the directions? Lots of reasons probably – impatience, the need for activity, the desire for something tangible to show my work – these are some of them. But perhaps in some way, if you look deeper, there was also pride lurking there. Pride that said I could figure it out. Pride that thought more of my own intelligence and ingenuity. Pride that my way was going to be just fine if I got close to the end result.

I was thinking about these projects when I read these words from Paul about his countrymen, the Israelites, recorded for us in Romans 10:

Brothers and sisters, my heart’s desire and prayer to God for the Israelites is that they may be saved. For I can testify about them that they are zealous for God, but their zeal is not based on knowledge. Since they did not know the righteousness of God and sought to establish their own, they did not submit to God’s righteousness. Christ is the culmination of the law so that there may be righteousness for everyone who believes (Rom. 10:1-4).

Paul loved these people. And no doubt, they were zealous. But there was an ironic quality to their zeal – they were missing the very God for which they were so zealous. In his words, their zeal was not based on knowledge. The Israelites of his day were operating under the assumptions that they knew all there was to know about God, and to be fair, they had a tremendous amount of knowledge through the law, the prophets, and the like. But despite all this knowledge, they missed the crucial piece that tied it all together – Jesus Christ.

Jesus was (and is) the source of true righteousness, because it’s only through Christ that our hearts can be made new. Without Him, all the righteous acts we might perform are just window dressing – they are like hanging pieces of fruit on the branches of a dead tree. 

But in order to get this missing piece, the Israelites had to submit their own knowledge to what God had revealed in Christ. To put it in terms of the illustration, they had to stop working on their own version of the project and start embracing the prescribed nature of the actual project. The one given by the Designer Himself, not their interpretation of what that end product should be. And in some ways, not much has changed.

There is still within all of us the deep desire to prove ourselves. To justify ourselves by our actions. To make a go at righteousness on our own without submitting to the design for true righteousness. And when we do that, we are making a startlingly bold claim:

My version of righteousness is better than God’s.

And here again we run up against the ironic nature of that claim – true righteousness is available to us. It’s available not through achievement, but through faith; not through our works, but through the finished work of Christ. 

So we come again today to the question of what project we are working on – are we going at it on our own? Convinced that through our own effort and ingenuity we can come out with something closely resembling the design? Or are we submitting ourselves to the Designer’s intent? The gospel demands the latter.

What You Can Learn from Chuck E. Cheese About Sanctification

When our kids were much younger, we would take the occasional trip to Chuck E. Cheese. Our general rule there was that we would play the games, we would hang out, we might get something to drink, but we would never order food because we knew there was a limited amount of time we could spend there. And that was because of Chuck E. 

We knew that it was only a matter of time before Chuck came out from the backroom and make his rounds. And while other kids would stand in line to give Chuck E. a hug or fist bump, our kids were terrified of him. I can sympathize – it is, after all, a giant rat. 

And not just a giant rat. A giant rat in a restaurant. Around your food. It’s the kind of thing you would have thought wouldn’t make it beyond the marketing room – that someone might have raised their hand and said, “Are we sure this is the best mascot for what we are trying to accomplish here?”

So yes, I can understand our kids’ hesitations. But on the other hand, that’s not actually a giant rat. I don’t know Chuck actually was, but at some point, that person was going to take off the rat costume. They weren’t really Chuck E.; they were only dressed up like him.

Silly illustration, but the point is that there is a great difference between dressing up like someone and actually being someone. And this is where we start to learn about sanctification, or the process by which we become more like Jesus. The core question at hand is this:

Who are we really? What is our identity? And that question matters a lot, because it determines whether we are actually Christians or whether we are only playing at being Christians.

To answer that question, we should recognize there is a distinct pattern represented in the New Testament, and that pattern can be summarized using three words: Believe. Become. Behave.

True life in Christ begins when someone hears the message of the gospel, knows their need, and sees Jesus as supremely valuable. That person turns from their self-lordship and embraces the new life in Christ. They believe the gospel, and they are once and for all born again into Him:

“When you heard the message of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and when you believed in Him, you were also sealed with the promised Holy Spirit. He is the down payment of our inheritance, for the redemption of the possession, to the praise of His glory” (Ephesians 1:13-14).

When someone believes the gospel, everything is changed. We have the tendency to sell the implications of believing the gospel short, seeing it as only a question of where a person will spend eternity. But the response to the gospel does more than determine a person’s trajectory; it determines a person’s identity. It does more than change where you’re going, it changes who you’re becoming:

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away, and look, new things have come” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

When we believe the gospel, we are made new. New identity. New desires. New goals. New Lord. New everything. Though we are made new on the inside, the Holy Spirit continues to invest His transformative power in us so that our outer actions catch up with our inner identity. God gives us a crown, as co-heirs with Christ, that we grow into over the course of time.

Sanctification happens as our behavior falls into line with our identity. Paul’s theology, the “believe, become, behave” model, recognizes that we have already become something new in Christ. We are already different. That means that the behavior part is not an effort to become something different; it’s about recognizing and living out the newness that is already in us. 

The real us? The true us? We are the children of God. We aren’t just acting like God’s children; we have become them. That means whenever we choose to live in accordance with His will we are living out who we have already become. And when we choose the way of sin? That’s when we put on the mask. 

God’s call to become more like Jesus is, then, a call to grow into what you’ve already become. Stop wearing the mark and embrace who you truly are.