Charis

This is the 10th post in a series on humility.

As I’ve already noted, it’s easy to get caught up in developing humility on my own, out of my strength and determination. And certainly, determination is required—but it’s a determination not to do but to be, to rest, to trust. Andrew Murray makes that clear as he continues his exploration of humility.

In the chapter “Humility and Faith,” he states that pride works against faith and that “faith and humility are at their root one” because both focus on God as all in all. The next step in Murray’s study is to consider humility and death to self. Murray writes, “Humility and death are in their very nature one: humility is the bud; in death the fruit is ripened to perfection.” The obvious question is “how do I let God become all in all? How do I die to self?” I love Murray’s answer, because it takes the pressure off of me:…

In his devotional for today, Oswald Chambers writes about Jesus as “master” and “teacher.” That got me thinking about the song “Made Me Glad,” from a Hillsong album several years ago. This song has been one of my favorites since first hearing it, and it’s one I often turn to when I feel the need […]

After reading yesterday’s post on praying for our enemies, Not Saussure was kind enough to point me to the blog of Rachel of North London, a woman who survived the terrorist train bombings on July 7, 2005. In her post “The F Word,” Rachel explores the meaning of forgiveness in very real, very practical terms.

As […]

Joee Blogs posted photos yesterday of Muslim protesters outside Westminster Cathedral in London. He took the photos not as a casual bystander or journalist but as someone on his way to mass.

The protesters were holding signs with sayings like, “May Allah curse the Pope” and “Jesus is the slave of Allah.” As you might expect, the photos generated a considerable response. Two things stood out to me as I read the post and the comments: 1. Joee took time to pray for the protesters while he was at the cathedral. 2. The level of hatred in the comments was disturbing.

The next chapter in Murray’s Humility opens with this quote from Thomas à Kempis:

Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be, since you cannot make yourself as you wish yourself to be.

Doesn’t that just stop you in your tracks?

We started our fall small group last night, and we’re doing Emerson Eggerichs’ Love and Respect, a wonderful teaching on marriage. As I prayed yesterday about what to say by way of introduction, three things came to mind, with this quote very much in the mix:

9th in a series on humility

I’m high maintenance; “Dan” takes a lot of work. And I suspect you could probably say the same of yourself (I promise it won’t hurt too much to say aloud just once, “I’m high maintenance”). In being focused on meeting my needs, maintaining my sense of myself, protecting my rights and privileges, I’m neither resting nor peaceful. Nor am I particularly happy, because I’m constantly getting tromped on. My wife offends me, one of the kids hurts my feelings with a comment about my weight, a driver cuts me off or gets in my way, somebody’s kids annoy me while I’m shopping at Wal-Mart: I go through my day irritated that the world doesn’t cater to me.

I have experienced some moments of Dan-free living, and they were quite enjoyable, actually. Moments of not being concerned with me but with others or with the task at hand. Teaching is generally that way for me. I simply go and do; I’m not worried about how I look or sound or whether I’m coming off as smart and professorial. I enter fully into the moment and have a great time. And I’ve discovered in those moments that a grace is there that makes up the deficiencies and fills in the gaps. If—When—I make a mistake, I simply acknowledge it, laugh at myself, and keep going. Teaching in those times is effortless (and great fun!).

Here’s the secret with my teaching…

8th in a series on humility

Last Thursday’s meditation on rest and peace was just what I needed. In the midst of seeking to grow in humility, I was wearing myself out trying to do it myself. It seemed like I was trusting God, because in difficult situations, I was praying, “Holy Spirit, help me not to say the wrong thing.” That sounds good, and it got me through the people problems, but it took a toll on me.

That subtle focus on not is the problem. It’s harder to keep yourself from not doing one thing than it is to do something else; as I’ve noted elsewhere, not doing is an anti-goal. Living out the prayer “Holy Spirit, I will speak when you show me what to say” requires less effort than does the constant monitoring of “I want to say this; is it the wrong thing? What about that? Is that wrong?” A not focus requires vigilance; we become gatekeepers of our thoughts, words, and actions…

As I was writing “helping your soul to rest in peace,” I remembered the words of a hymn by Charles Wesley, based on Hebrews 3 and 4; I know it from a recording by worship leader Craig Smith. The lyrics are beautiful and worth meditating on:

Lord I believe in a rest that remains
To all Thy people known
A rest where pure enjoyment reigns
And Thou art loved alone
A rest where all our souls’ desire
Is fixed on the things above
Where doubt and pain and fear expire
Cast out by perfect love…

One of the aspects of The Little Book of Hours that I like best is that the morning and evening prayers end with this:

May the souls of the faithful by the mercy of God rest in peace. Amen.

This repetition of “rest in peace” was one of the first things that caught my attention when I started using the prayer book several years ago. Growing up, the only time I heard “rest in peace” was in regard to gravestones, so I wondered why this prayer was a a regular feature. I concluded that while the original intent of the prayer may have been for the “dearly departed,” I was going to speak it as a prayer for myself and my family…

This is #7 in a series on humility.

I’ve got a sinus infection, so I’m going to keep this short.

I thought about writing a post today titled “help me, I’m dying”—not because I’m sick (though my head does feel as if it’s about to explode) but rather because practicing humility is killing my flesh, and it’s hard. It’s easy to get discouraged. Murray offers some much needed encouragement:

Let us be content with nothing less than taking each example of Jesus’ humility as the promise of what God will work in us, as the revelation of what the Spirit of Jesus will put within us. Allow each failure and shortcoming to only the more quickly turn us to the meek and lowly Lamb of God in the assurance that where He is enthroned in the heart, His humility and gentleness will be the streams of living water that flow from within us.

This is a timely reminder to me that I’m not doing this on my own—can’t do it on my own, in fact. Only by the power of the Spirit can true humility be worked in me. Praise God that it is His desire to do that work!