What God Doesn’t Plan: My Post for A Deeper Story

Posted on by Ed Cyzewski

tracks-God's-plan-for-you

 

I’m surrounded by college students every day at a local café. There’s something different about them, even if they generally behave just as you would expect college students to behave: loud conversations on their phones, enthusiastic conversations, texting frequently, working occasionally, smoking regularly, and drinking large, sweet coffee drinks. I can relate to almost everything about them—well, except for the smoking. And the texting actually, gosh, I’m 35, you know. But besides the texting and smoking, the one thing I can’t quite understand is that the majority of these college students have their Bibles out on their tables next to their school books.

If it was one or two students, I wouldn’t give it another thought. This isn’t something I see with one or two students. This is more like fifteen or twenty students who are regulars at the local café, as well as a few friends of theirs who show up from time to time. Every single one keeps a Bible out in plain sight the entire time, every single time.

Most days the number of Bibles in the café outnumber the guys dressed like lumberjacks with huge beards, which is really saying something for my neighborhood. And I’m totally cool with all of this Bible study, even if it’s always paired with an orchestrated public Bible display and followed with a smoke break. They won’t hear me complain. However, one day I overheard a conversation that reminded me of what’s at stake with all of this immersion in Bible study.

Two young guys who were part of the smoking/public Bible group had a very loud, very anxious accountability meeting a few tables away. As I walked up for a refill, I heard a very familiar phrase: “I’m starting to figure out God’s plan for me…”

Read the rest at A Deeper Story

Are We Moving Toward Suffering During Advent?

Posted on by Ed Cyzewski

Advent Candles

If I have made one big mistake as a Christian, it’s been wanting to help people from a distance rather than drawing near to them. You know, pretty much the opposite of what Jesus did.

For instance, the author of Hebrews called Jesus a high priest, which made him a mediator between God and humanity. A high priest is supposed to be among the people—all up in their business, so to speak. Despite being so close to us in the midst of our flaws and weaknesses, words like “merciful” and “empathize” are used when discussing the ministry of Jesus. Have a look:

Hebrews 2:17 (NIV)

“For this reason he had to be made like them, fully human in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people.”

The author Hebrews goes on to say:

Hebrews 4:15 (NIV)

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin.”

We could summarize the ministry of Jesus like this: Find people trapped in sin and suffering, join them, and restore them to God. He is merciful and kind, empathizing with our weaknesses and then healing us. However, in order to be truly merciful and in order to fully heal us, he has to also be fully among us, present with us even when we’re at our worst.

My church has been talking a lot lately about being present with those who are suffering during Advent. In fact, our big picture mission is “to be a community of prayer that engages suffering.” I kind of hate the word “engage” because I think it sounds a little too impersonal or detached, but it captures the right direction and intention. If there was ever a time of year to think about being present among those who are suffering or in sin, Advent is the time.

Jesus came down to earth in order to be present among us, to show mercy. He wanted to fully see, hear, and understand. He wasn’t detached from suffering. And when he encountered suffering, he drew closer to the people, listened to them, and offered to help those willing to receive it.

I like the idea of helping, but it can be tough to draw near to others and to be fully present. There’s always a great excuse, whether I don’t have enough money, time, or emotional reserves.

For advent, I wanted to ask what it might look like to be present among those who are suffering and how we can help.

Perhaps today we need to begin with a simple truth that will make everything else all the more meaningful: God is present among us first and foremost. We’re not in this alone, even if we sometimes feel like it.

We could be in the midst of a dark night of the soul.

We could be distracted.

We could be traumatized.

We could lack training in awareness of God.

There are lots of reasons why we may struggle to recognize God’s presence among us, let alone experiencing the joy and freedom of God’s Kingdom that is already here.

If we don’t believe God is moving toward us first, we’ll struggle to move toward others.

What if you took 20 minutes each day this week to simply sit and acknowledge of the presence of God. Don’t ask for anything to happen. Don’t expect miracles. Just recognize that God is present. Focus on a simple word like mercy, love, kindness, present, heal, or another word that helps you focus on God’s presence.

Through Advent we recognize God’s movement toward us, but we’ll feel alone and forgotten if we don’t prepare a place for God to arrive and assure us that the mercy and empathy of Jesus, our high priest, also applies to us.

We Don’t Move Forward by Adding Another Thing

Posted on by Ed Cyzewski

time-too-busy

I’m in the Christian writing business, so I am acutely aware of the greatest danger for Christian living books: The worst Christian living books try to add more stuff to your life without helping you remove stuff first. In fact, the most helpful books probably remove stuff and help you thrive with what you already have.

Our greatest challenge as Christians is seeing what we already have. If we aren’t getting to the place where we think we need to go, we probably won’t get there by adding another thing to our lives. We’re already loaded up with stuff and our minds are buzzing with distractions and ideas to the point that we’ll struggle to figure out the next step.

If you’re feeling full and life is chaotic and crazy, you don’t need another book on how to study the Bible or how to memorize scripture better or how to even add another cool prayer practice to your life. Those things may help, but they won’t help you when you’re feeling busy and chaotic. You’ll just struggle to add those things to your life and then you’ll have both the sensation of spinning wheels and the guilt of not being able to live a spiritual-enough life.

If you are a follower of Jesus, then here is what you have: you are a member of God’s family who can call him “Father.” You are mysteriously united with Jesus, and the Holy Spirit dwells in you. That is what you already have. You don’t have to work to gain those things. You may need to change things in order to “experience” that reality, but you can’t add anything to your life that will make any of those things more real.

So if you read scripture, you will give yourself a tool to experience the presence of God.

If you pray, you’ll be able to confess sins, express what’s on your mind, and, if you learn how to listen, hear what God is saying to you.

If you add a new spiritual discipline or practice, you’ll create more space to experience God in your life. If you keep an open mind, you’ll ideally start to become aware of God throughout each day.

However, none of those spiritual practices can change God’s presence in our lives. If anything, it’s the stuff in our lives that prevents us from seeing God. We are too loaded down with distractions and burdens to hear and experience God.

Some of us, perhaps many of us, rely on these distractions as a way to medicate our pain, confusion, or disappointment in life. I find it striking that Jesus described himself as a doctor who had come for the sick. It’s like he knew that our world is full of hurting people who are relying on all kinds of “drugs” to get through the day.

We are promised abundant life that flows constantly like water from a spring. However, so many days it feels like a trickle. Then again, perhaps some of us are picking at dry ground, praying for a bit of relief. We’re looking for the perfect way to dig up enough water for today, and those promises of abundant life feel like a dirty trick.

I have seen time and time again that I can only move forward spiritually if I remove something. I need to eliminate the stuff that is keeping me from being present in my day, from hearing God, and from resting in who I am.

Our core identity in Christ is the foundation for our lives, and too often we try to become something holier and more spiritual on a false foundation of extra effort or new fangled spiritual gimmicks.

The “work” of the Christian life isn’t convincing God to be with us. The work is cutting out all of the crap and distractions that cut us off from our identity in Christ and fill up our days. God can’t build until the foundation is cleared of all the junk. And sometimes the junk is stuff we like—television shows, sports, social media, news sites, etc. It’s a leap of faith to trust God has something better for us if we prepare a place in our lives.

Perhaps we’ll be prepared to take this leap of faith when we’re hurting enough or feel lost enough. You’re always welcome to try adding another new thing. I just suspect that it will fall flat without addressing your identity in Christ first and foremost.

I’m not saying that God can’t help things get better or that more prayer and Bible won’t help. I’m just saying that we all have so much more than we realize already. It’s right there for us, and we don’t see it. It would be a tragedy if we spent our lives trying to add one more thing when the most important things are hidden because we haven’t learned to grow through subtraction.

If I Created God in My Own Image, He’d Let Me Slap You

Posted on by Ed Cyzewski

slap Christians over doctrine

God is merciful, and I am not.

That is one of the most important conclusions I’ve reached after years of theological wrangling and Bible study. In fact, it’s the mercy of Jesus that often caused the greatest amount of friction between himself and the religious leaders of his time.

I don’t think you can deny the mercy of God in the story of scripture, but the challenge often becomes how to apply that mercy today. I mean, God does get around to judging people at the end of time and all, right?

But whatever form that judgment takes, it’s also abundantly clear that Jesus would really quite rather we spend our time showing mercy to others. He framed his ministry as the work of a doctor healing the sick. He even prevented religious authorities from stoning a woman after she committed adultery—an act that they could have easily backed up with chapter and verse.

God patiently sent one prophet after another to tell the wayward Israelites: “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”

In other words, learn to be merciful and you will be obedient. Don’t use your obedience as an excuse to abandon mercy.

As I try to sort out what God’s kind of mercy looks like today, I’ve often heard those who self-identify as more “biblical” or “gospel-centered” accuse me of reinventing God in my own image. By seeking to be merciful, I’m going soft on people because it’s what I want rather than what God and scripture teaches. If God had his way with me, I’d go around shoving the faces of sinners into the chapter and verse for everything.

This accusation is both annoying and frustratingly inaccurate. How dare they mistake me for a merciful person!

I’m just about the most stodgy, rule-following, judgmental person there is. I would love to point the finger at other people than deal with my own issues. Really. It’s super easy to find other people to criticize and judge. It makes me feel amazing because all of these other jokers set the bar so low that I can’t help but look like a religious super hero.

And if I could get God to see things my way, he’d also let me slap more people. Nothing harmful or abusive. Just a little, “HEY! GET IT TOGETHER!” They do this thing on television and the movies all of the time, and I think I would be really good at it in real life. If God let me slap more people like that, I think I would exercise restraint and there’d be a ton more people who would “get it together” faster.

At the very least, all of my slapping would ensure that people wouldn’t go around making ridiculous assertions that people who speak of mercy are remaking God in their own image. I assure you, the vast majority of us are not. I’d love to be more judgmental, to set up stronger boundaries, and to ensure I exist in an echo chamber of ideas that never leave me challenged or uncomfortable—what some may call a “remnant.”

I could be wrong. Maybe the slapping approach isn’t the best way forward. I’m willing to admit that.

While I can admit my slapping plan may have flaws, I wonder if those who accuse the merciful of reinventing God in their own image could ask themselves the same question: “Are we also inventing God in our own image?” That’s not a comfortable place to be.  Maybe getting slapped doesn’t sound so bad now, amirite?

As I read the story of scripture, I don’t see people who struggled to judge others. If anything, God’s people struggled time and time again to be merciful. The people who received mercy direct from Jesus failed time and time again, calling down fire from heaven, writing off the blind as sinners, and trying to protect their turf when casting out demons. Mercy was anything but natural for them.

What if those most prone to judgment are just as likely, if not more likely at times, to be inventing God in their own image?

 

 

Does God Pursue Us When We Wander Away?

Posted on by Ed Cyzewski

lost-sheep-parable

That stupid sheep got what was coming to him. That’s how I’d rewrite the parable of the lost sheep. I mean, gosh, the shepherd had 99 other sheep. Just sheer a few of them and buy another sheep with the profit if he likes big round, even numbers.

Ironically, our family recently lost a sheep. It wasn’t a real sheep. It was a bath toy that our son started obsessing over. He wanted to take the sheep everywhere.

I usually try to keep his most prized toys in the house unless we’re taking a road trip, but I relented when he wanted to take the sheep to the farmers market on Saturday. We loaded into the stroller, and he clutched his sheep… for about a minute. Then he dropped it out the side.

I was afraid this would happen.

“All done,” I said. “No more sheep. You dropped him.” I stuck the sheep in the stroller.

“Sheep! Sheep!” he said.

“All done,” I said with finality.

“All done… sheep,” he parroted back to me with resignation.

While I’d intended to tuck the sheep away for the walk and bring him out when we arrived at home, I somehow lost the sheep during our walk. It took a few days for our son to accept this development. I explained that’s why we don’t take our favorite toys on walks.

A few months later, my wife and I read him a children’s version of Jesus’ parables, and that included the parable of the lost sheep. Our son was really into it. It’s like the Bible’s version of Blue’s Clues, right?

Where’s the sheep?

Is he behind the rock?

Is he behind the tree?

Is he in the stream?

SHEEP! SHEEP! WAAAAA! WAAAAA!

So yes, the sheep is stuck in the mud in the shallow part of the stream. The shepherd, who has endured the hot sun, thorn bushes, and many weary hours of searching joyfully carries the sheep home. In this version of the story all of the other sheep cheer and smile when they see the shepherd return home with their friend.

The story ends with a full on party with balloons, party hats, cake, and, most importantly for our son, juice. It’s a golden colored liquid, so I suppose it could be juice or beer. I’m sure the sheep wouldn’t mind either way.

After walking downstairs I remarked to my wife that Jesus always looks for the sheep, but if our son loses his sheep, daddy says, “Too bad!”

I started out joking, but as I considered what I’d said, I realized that I’d just uncovered a really big problem. Sometimes it takes explaining something to a child to uncover that your theology and spirituality are actually bankrupt.

* * *

Try harder to obey God.

Seek God more fervently.

Commit to God more passionately.

Work for God more devotedly.

Study about God harder.

These have been mantras for my faith. I can’t say when or where I picked them up. I just know that I’ve had a, “Don’t blow it!” approach to faith as my default more times than not.

There have been glimpses of God’s grace and mercy. I’ve had breakthroughs when I realized that God’s mercy means he does the saving. However, I still struggle with guilt, fear, and isolation when I screw up. Over the past two years I’ve especially faced my issues with control, anger, and an overall detachment from people in need. In my head, I imagine myself repeatedly screwing up and God tossing his hands in the air with resignation.

I imagine the trinity having a conversation.

The Father: Maybe he’s not so great after all. He keeps being such a selfish jerk to people.

The Son: Look, I did my part. I died and rose again. Don’t ask me to do anything else for this guy!

The Spirit: Hey, look, I’m dwelling in him, but he keeps turning away. Let’s find someone else who “gets it.”

I’ve spent a lot of time with a kind of frantic guilt ridden spirituality. Even if I have plenty of evidence for God’s love and presence in my life, I keep worrying that I’m never doing enough. I’m never reaching out to God enough. If I make one false move and stop working hard enough, I’ll lose my grip on God.

This isn’t without some proof texts in the Bible. In the Gospels, Jesus often gives people a choice to follow him or their own plans. The story of the rich young ruler has given me chills for years. At one moment Jesus looked at him with love and then Jesus watched him walk away.

There’s also a strong theme of reaping what you sow. The Psalms open with a striking image of meditating on God’s law being like a tree planted by streams of water. That choice to draw near to God results in ongoing life, so we can imagine what the opposite result will be if we neglect this practice. In addition, Jesus warns that the measures we use on others will be used back on us.

However, this cause and effect theology shouldn’t override the message of mercy and grace that comes up over and over again in the Bible. It’s not just that God is inviting people to come back. God often sent prophets to reach out. Putting this in terms of the lost sheep story: The prophets acted as the “shepherds” with the task of bringing people back to God.

If the people came back, their welcome was never in doubt. The tragedy was that the people, who had wandered off like lost sheep, refused to even return with the shepherd in the first place.

I wonder if we forget that God is actively seeking us. We believe that we will reap what we sow, but we overlook our chance to accept God’s mercy that actively seeks us out. Perhaps we don’t believe that God would welcome us back.

There have been times when I’ve been ruled by guilt and judgment. I see the ways I’ve wandered off, and I start to believe that I don’t deserve mercy. I don’t deserve a shepherd. I don’t deserve a warm welcome.

Perhaps I have rewritten the story of the lost sheep in my mind. The shepherd in my version stands at the gate sighing in disappointment, waiting for me to get my act together, to work harder, to try to be a better sheep, and to stop wandering off.

And if I ever do manage to come back, the rest of the sheep will point their hooves at me. No balloons, no cake, and certainly no juice. Perhaps they’d even whisper behind my back:

He doesn’t deserve a good, merciful shepherd.

He didn’t deserve to be found or welcomed back.

He was dumb, discontent, and untrustworthy.

What shepherd in his right mind would search for him?

That sheep should have come crawling back. It’s a good thing he’s trying to do better now because that shepherd surely isn’t coming for him next time.

When Paul prays that his readers would “grow in grace,” I wonder if he had parables like this in mind. It’s so hard to believe that God is pursuing us when we screw up and that God expects us to show the same mercy to others who fail.

Perhaps it’s so hard for me to love others and to welcome those who have screwed up because I don’t believe God is doing the same for me. I don’t believe I’m worth it. I can believe in the cross as a divine transaction into my eternal bank account, but it’s much harder to believe in a shepherd who takes extraordinary risks and suffers unimaginably just to bring me home.

What if the only way to grow in grace is to receive it? What if we need to place ourselves into the story of the lost sheep every single morning so that we can believe we’re being pursued by a God who wants nothing more than to carry us home, throw a party, and serve us juice.

 

Ed Cyzewski's avatar

Ed Cyzewski

I’m the author of Flee, Be Silent, Pray: Ancient Prayers for Anxious Christians, Reconnect: Spiritual Restoration from Digital Distraction, and other books. I write about prayer and spiritual restoration at http://www.edcyzewski.com.

Books by Ed Cyzewski

When Your 20’s Feel Like Darkness that Could Ruin Your Entire Life

Posted on by Ed Cyzewski

Light-in-darkness-20s

When I turned 30 I was in the midst of a career switch and a season of transition that felt unstable and uncertain. I wondered what I’d done with all of those years between college and graduation. How did I end up here?

I hadn’t accomplished enough. In fact, I felt more lost than certain about the direction of my life.

Career changes, unemployment, moving, wasted money, unused degrees, disappointment, and fear about the future marked my twenties and my clunky transition into my 30’s. Looking over my career, I felt like I’d done nothing but make bad decisions and screw up anything positive about the good decisions.

Life hadn’t been hard, per se. I’d just invested a ton of time and money into a degree that I wasn’t using all that much and then worked a dead end job in a sector where I had no interest in advancing before blowing it all up to stumble around as a freelance writer and author.

I wondered if I was lazy. Why did I feel so uninspired each day at work? And why couldn’t I figure out my next step? I couldn’t see very far into the future. It was this murky mass of chaos and tragedy ready to swallow me up.

Most of us start to grasp our own mortality throughout our 20’s as well. We realize that there will be a moment when we will close our eyes and everything changes forever. Suddenly the days feel shorter and we attach greater weight to everything we do. We don’t want to waste our time on some dead end career.

But how do you take a step forward when every step feels wrong?

Where do you go when you feel perpetually lost and you can’t think straight because you can only hear the clock ticking?

* * *

It’s hard to find the light in your 20’s. So many things are dark, confusing, and end up being “not as advertised.”

I thought I was on course to become a pastor. That crashed and burned.

I thought I could reinvent myself in the nonprofit sector. That didn’t work out.

I thought I was on the path to becoming a full time author. I had an image of that kind of success, and I just fell flat on my face—over and over and over again. I turned 35 this past August, and I think I’m just now getting over all of that.

I spent the first few years of my 30’s lamenting all of my failures, facing all that I’d done wrong, wondering if I’d missed out on everything in life. I thought I was a lost cause. I’d burned up, burned out, and didn’t have any light left to give.

If you’re looking for a guy who had his act together in his 20’s, I’m not your guy. If you’re looking for someone who was plagued by self-doubt, anxiety, career-missteps, failure, wastes of time, and miscalculations, then I’m totally your guy.

I can’t speak definitively about “being in one’s 20’s,” and I’m pretty sure my 20’s weren’t as bad as some of the stuff others folks have gone through or are going through, but we’ve all had our share of crap to sort through. And hey, I ended up in the emergency room thanks to an anxiety attack in my mid-twenties, so I’m most likely a little crazier than some of you.

I see lots of really talented, smart, kind, funny 20-somethings taking wild stabs in the dark and fearing the worst. I see lots of self-doubt and therapy, and it breaks my heart. If I could say just one thing to these 20-somethings, it would be this:

You can be a total screw up and still be really great.

Not a little screwing up here and there… I mean epic fail, mom calls asking if everything’s alright kind of screw up.

I know that it’s hard to seek the light when everything is dark and confusing and hostile. I know you want to have your act together. I know there are hundreds of thousands of people who have their acts more together than you and are buying homes, starting families, and getting promoted in their careers. I could post links to their profiles on LinkedIn if you like. I know who they are. I get it. But some of us need to fight it out, and I don’t know why that is, but it’s ok to fight and thrash and fear and worry.

You are more than your past failures or your ambitions. If I made a mistake in my 20’s, it’s that I longed for a title, a series of accomplishments that would help me identify myself.

Whether you’re in your 20’s right now, you’re struggling through your 30’s or 40’s, or you’re wondering what the heck you’ll do when you hit retirement age or beyond, I wanted to offer a few words of encouragement and shifts in perspective:

 

1 Find a Mentor

It’s really OK to ask someone for help. It’s OK to admit you feel lost. It may actually be the most liberating thing you can do.

I know you may think YOU are the exception. You just need more time or luck or whatever. If you’re thinking that, then you really, really need a mentor. You need someone who has walked a bit further down the road to help you gain some perspective. And honestly, the truth is that older folks need younger folks to remind them just how valuable and helpful they are. Self-doubt doesn’t go “poof” at the age of 40, 50, or 60.

If you’re young, you have encouragement to offer and wisdom to gain from a mentor. If you’re receiving AARP catalogues, younger folks need you and can offer exactly what you need during this season of life.

If anything, our culture has been captivated with the latest shiny, beautiful people who Instagram cute life-quotes on images of sunsets and flowers. If you rely on people with huge Facebook or Twitter followings to guide you through career change or a demanding season of life, you’re pretty much screwed. Tragically, older folks rarely know just how badly the younger generations need them.

To make matter worse… Older folks can’t fit their wisdom on a picture of a sunset.

 

2 Experience Isn’t a Waste

The most important thing I’ve learned since diving into writing and publishing in 2005 has been the simple truth that nothing in writing or publishing is ever wasted. Sure, you may fall on your face, but you won’t get a bloody nose in vain. Everything I’ve ever written has helped me write better for my next project. That’s why you often hear about authors who have drawers full of novels they can’t get anyone to publish and then they finally write something that wins awards and makes all of the money—and by that I mean a few thousand dollars since this IS publishing I’m talking about.

I could see that with my writing, but I couldn’t see that in my life experiences. It took a trusted friend to point out the value in my life experiences. In other words, I asked a mentor for help, and he truly delivered.

Nothing is wasted because YOU are the investment, and with every thing you try, you gain experience. And experience is really, really valuable. It may be a really painful process, and it may leave you feeling like “the worst,” but every experience you gain represents a piece of the map in your life. You know the lay of the land just a tiny bit better.

You may hate the lay of the land, but at least you’ll know where you’re at. You’ll be able to try something else out that will give you a little more experience, another piece of the map, and may even help you take a step forward.

 

3 Accomplishments Are OK

I’ve spent a lot of time looking at everything I haven’t accomplished or at least looking at all of the ways I haven’t accomplished enough. I’ve also seen people who have basically lived what I thought my dream would be, and they’re always looking at people who are more successful and hating the downsides of their success that I never could have foreseen.

Some people think that I’m really living the dream because I’ve published a few books. Others have even asked for advice on how to do what I do.

At times it’s really hard to stop myself from laughing and saying, “Oh, you don’t want to do what I do!”

Here’s the thing, lately, I can see how all of my experiences have guided me to where I’m at today. Yes, I’ve made some huge mistakes and had some truly embarrassing failures—not that most people noticed or even remembers what they were. However, I do have a good bit of clarity about my life right now. There was no other way to arrive at this point than to try a bunch of stuff out and see where it got me.

So you can try to do what I do, but it probably won’t take you to where you think it’s going to take and it probably won’t make you feel the way you expect it will make you feel.

The stuff that has been successful has been OK, but it simply can’t be the measure that I use for myself. It’s a battle, but I’m trying to measure my success according to how loved I feel by God, how well I love my family, and whether I can work on a few projects that tie into the gifts God has given me. I have to support our family, at least in part, with my freelancing work, but the goal isn’t to earn the most or to write the most popular books.

Words like success, dreams, or goals have been replaced with the word: faithfulness. Am I faithful to love God first? Am I faithfully loving my wife and son? Am I faithfully using my creative gifts in ways that I feel led?

Success is fleeting and fickle. The triumphs of yesterday quickly give way to fears of tomorrow. There are a thousand things you can’t control.

So we all have a choice.

We can look at the thousand things we can’t control and have constant anxiety attacks… which I’ve done for most of my life… or we can realize that we are loved beyond our wildest imaginations.

Each evening I tuck my son into bed and pray with him. We pray basically the same prayer every time, and as I pray that he’ll know God loves him and is with him, I’m reminded that God loves both of us with a love that surpasses my unshakable love for him.

We always try to think of exceptions for ourselves, but if “God so loved the world” in John 3:16 and you’re currently part of “the world,” then you’re in luck.

* * *

I’m certain that every stage of life offers its fair share of disappointments, uncertainties, and dark moments. I also know that my 20’s felt like this irredeemable pile of crap that would never amount to anything. I didn’t have much hope of ever sorting things out.

We stumble, fall, and take cautious steps forward.

I’m not that much further down the road, but looking back from the vantage point of 35, I can see that things aren’t necessarily always going to be “OK,” since hard stuff always happens, but there always would be hope. There is light. There’s always light.

For all of the things that we can’t control about the future, we can’t change the constant of God’s love for us. And we can control how much we love our family. We can control the things we try out and the new habits we shape for ourselves. We can control finding a mentor to help us process the good and the bad.

And as often as we see our failures and deficiencies, I can tell my friends that I see so much potential in them every day. I see gifted writers, loving parents, and passionate storytellers who have so much to offer their friends, families, and anyone else who crosses their paths.

Perhaps part of the tragedy of our 20’s is that we start our adult lives holding tightly to a picture of the future or fearing there’s no picture at all. When our picture fails to develop or we can’t even find a picture for the future in the first place, we lose sight of every good thing we already have.

It’s hard to believe this, but I see light in every person I know. I see it every single day. For every person who has given a reason why he/she is unworthy or doing everything wrong, I can give three reasons why they’re loved and doing so many things right.

And if you can’t believe that there is a light for you right now, I pray that myself and others will keep holding it up for you so that one day you’ll be able to see it. May we always hold up the light for each other.

You’re an Amazing Writer and I Hate You

Posted on by Ed Cyzewski

fist-hate-writers

When my friend J.R. moved to Texas in order to take a new job as a pastor, he started tagging every related post on social media with the hashtag: #Texodus. I had the simultaneous reaction of absolutely loving that tag and hating myself for not being so fresh, clever, and inventive.

It’s as if all of the creativity in the world had been bottled up and shipped to Texas that week. Creativity had taken its own #Texodus…

And then the other day, author Jen Hatmaker shared that her family had just discovered this parody of hipster parenting on Pinterest, complete with a fictional child named Quinoa. Hatmaker mentioned on Facebook that she both loved it and hated it because it was so clever.

It was basically a transcript of my own thoughts… just with the implied southern drawl that I add to everyone from Texas on social media.

I love how author Anne Lamott writes with bracing honesty about both celebrating and lamenting the success of other authors. This isn’t just about the fear of fellow authors filling up the coveted spots at major publishers—though I’m sure there’s some fear of that too. This is about guilt and comparison and the fear that we’re never doing enough or never writing anything good enough. Fellow writers become our anecdotal evidence.

See! She’s publishing articles in those journals! I’ll never keep up with her!

He just wrote an amazing book for my favorite publisher. I can’t match that!

It’s also really easy to overestimate the success of other writers. Perhaps I see a writer publish a great book, and I’m filled with envy at his talent and notoriety, but he’s on the other end lamenting that the book hasn’t sold enough to earn back an advance and is looking at the writers above him who are getting bestseller stickers slapped on their books left and right.

And let’s not overlook this: it’s hard to sell books—especially if you want to do everything ethically. Some of my favorite books aren’t bestsellers, and some of the books I hate—I mean with a white, hot, passionate hate—are bestsellers that make someone’s list of amazeball books every year. So when you’re struggling as a commercial or indie author, it’s easy to start making comparisons and to start wondering if your book would do a bit better if you had half of the resources available to another author.

I can’t speak definitively on this, but as I try to sort out the state of my own soul with all of this book publishing envy, jealousy, and carefully controlled hatred, I think most of my restlessness is based on a low opinion of myself. I lack confidence most days in my own calling and in my own developing talent. I forget all of the times that I’ve felt God giving me a steady shove to keep at this writing thing.

Perhaps I even begin to envy the gifts or callings of others. I forget that I have my own style, stories, and messages to pass along, and so long as I’m offering them to others as a gift, I don’t have to worry about the success that others have.

That feels like the kind of cliché line a loser writer believes when he can’t measure up to “successful writers.” However, I always have to remind myself that someone will sell more books and achieve more success. Comparison is its own never ending punishment. You can only break out of it by writing out of a sense of conviction and always improving your work because you’ve been called to do your best as a service to others, not because you want to hit a bestseller list or ten.

As with most things, there’s a fine line here. Every writer needs to read in order to improve. I’ve flipped through memoirs and novels and marveled at how a particular author wove the various storylines and characters together. Those books challenged me to become a better writer.

However, if we aren’t rooted in God’s presence, calling, and strength, we’ll move from disappointment to envy to self-loathing over and over again.

We each have to sort out our own paths to peace and contentment within the callings God give us. What works for me may not work for everyone else. But I do know what has failed me over and over again. I know what other writers have shared with me.

The envy and jealousy that comes with comparing ourselves to others minimizes the work God is doing in and through us. God can work through us, but sometimes we have to turn our eyes away from what everyone else is doing so that we can say, “Speak Lord, your servant is listening.”

 

My Own Columbus Day Celebration: Seeing God’s Blessings in a City I Hated

Posted on by Ed Cyzewski

columbus-ohio-day-home

I used to really hate Columbus, Ohio. When driving from Philadelphia to my college out in Indiana, it was the last major obstacle on a trip that lasted between 11 and 12 hours.

After weaving my way through the terribly maintained Pennsylvania Turnpike and then rumbling along the pothole-filled Pennsylvania section of I-70, the rolling hills of Eastern Ohio provided a welcome respite of clear, easy driving. I made excellent time and had minimal close calls with trucks or reckless drivers until I hit Columbus. Everything was always terrible in Columbus. At certain points a series of merges and exits led to one traffic jam after another along I-70, and if I wanted to doge the center city traffic, I could take the longer 270 by-pass option that added time but minimized merging and traffic jams.

Either way, I always lost time around Columbus. If my drive ever extended longer than the twelve hours predicted by Map Quest, I could usually blame Columbus. I used to sneer at its skyline.

And who would ever want to live in such a city? Nothing about it made any sense to me. There were no mountains, no oceans, and no major lakes to speak of. Columbus was just a smattering of skyscrapers and traffic jams surrounded by suburbs and cornfields.

Columbus also marked the beginning of the really flat part of my drive. As much as I wanted to escape the East Coast for a season, I really missed the rolling hills and mountains outside of Philadelphia. They’re no great shakes compared to what you see in the Northeastern states like Vermont or New Hampshire, and they’re like speed bumps compared to the Rockies, but it can be jarring to leave something that has surrounded you for most of your life.

Columbus marked the point of no return before the unrelenting Midwestern FLAT that persists until Colorado. As much as I looked forward to college, I couldn’t help feeling a little sad once I hit Columbus. It marked the point where I definitely didn’t feel at home, the point where I didn’t belong.

Fast-forward about ten years from my college graduation and my last trip through Columbus as a resident of the Midwest…

My wife and I took a walk along a country lane in Connecticut outside of the town where we’d been living for the past year.

She was a student at a nearby university, but it wasn’t quite the right fit for her area of study. She had applied to a few schools, and the best opportunity had been offered by a school in Ohio—a school right in Columbus. While the details of the program sounded amazing, I couldn’t fight off the sense of dread. I would have to make Columbus my home for at least four years, maybe longer. I figured that I’d at least get cheap hockey tickets to see the Blue Jackets.

We jumped into our move with both feet, and have tried to find our place in this city that had been my enemy for so long. For the most part, it has worked.

After three years in Columbus, we’ve certainly missed the mountains, lakes, and oceans of the northeast, but we’ve also found a great church, fantastic friends, excellent activities for our kids, and some decent hiking outside the city. There is a great local food scene, even pizza that approaches the quality of NY style joints, and those cheap hockey tickets.

It’s strange to tell people that I’m “from” Columbus. I still think of myself as someone from the northeast. But there’s no denying that God has taken an unlikely place that I’d completely written off and caused life to blossom. If Columbus was my wilderness, God has tapped open a rock and sent streams of water flowing. I’m as close to thriving in this season of life as I’ve ever been.

I have no idea why a landlocked city in the Midwest with a puny river running through it got named “Columbus.” Why name a city after a European explorer? I have no clue. It’s as mysterious as our ongoing celebration of Columbus Day. It’s been well-documented that Columbus was murderous, cruel, and responsible for the deaths of thousands if not millions of native people.

It’s hard to find much of anything to celebrate from his legacy. So perhaps it’s our role to bring new stories to life that celebrate what’s actually worth remembering.

For my own Columbus Day celebration, I will remember who I was and I what I thought of this city. I didn’t see Columbus, Ohio as a place where I or anyone else could thrive. If I ever heard of someone living in Columbus, I always thought to myself, “WHY?”

Now, I get it. I have seen God bless us with friends, community, and a new life. It’s not the Promised Land per se, but it’s been a land full of new promises and hope. It’s been the scene of significant new life for me as I’ve confronted my anxiety issues and discovered a deeper experience of God’s love and mercy. I didn’t have to move to Columbus in order to make those steps, but I can see how key people and moments in Columbus have been a part of that process.

God has been guiding us through this season and changing us. Perhaps the smallest of these changes is my view of this city. God can bring blessings in the places we least expect them. God can take a poorly named, horrendously situated city and create no end of new life and opportunities.

Does Everything Today Rely on Coveting?

Posted on by Ed Cyzewski

coveting-consumer-culture-car

There are days when I feel like my fragile income as a writer gives me superpowers that see through some of the worst parts of our consumer culture. At the very least it functions like immunity to the frantic “Buy! Buy! Buy!” of commercials. If you don’t have extra cash to spend, the majority of commercials are irrelevant!

For instance, I’m watching a bit more TV this month because hockey season is here. It’s that time of the year where I swap my time in the garden with a bit of time doing housework while watching hockey (especially when my wife has a grad school deadline). The commercials regularly remind me that there’s a whole other world out there.

This alternate reality thrives on sex, booze, and spending money to get the hottest car, the sharpest appliances, and the most exotic vacations.

I don’t mean to play the part of the fundamentalist prude here. I’m talking about commercials that thrive on shameless overindulgence in otherwise good things.

I like being married to my wife quite a lot, but I’m not super interested in watching the Labatt’s Blue bear slip into a tent for a threesome. And I like our reliable Subaru wagon (I also know that I’m guilty of being branded because Subaru most certainly targets people like me), but then there are the luxury car commercials that show people making out in the rain and black cars zipping around unrealistically empty urban centers with nary a red light. The message is unmistakable: INDULGE.

I don’t know, call me crazy, but it all rings quite hollow to me. The fact that I don’t have the money to spend on excessive amounts of cheap beer, fancy liquor, the latest appliances, the most amazing vacations to the tropics, or the sleekest super sex machine luxury car automatically means I’m watching these commercials as an outsider.

I’m not the first person to notice that our consumer culture thrives on creating discontent. I could see that line running through each commercial for sure. However, there was something a bit more sinister at work as well. These commercials took that discontent a step further. They were actively prompting viewers to covet something: more sex, more speed, more booze, etc. That points to an uncomfortable question for Americans:

Where is the line between discovering you have a legitimate need and coveting something from a place of discontent?

This is something where we can’t necessarily point at someone’s station in life or choices and determine whether they’ve crossed from a healthy decision to a discontent spirit of covering. At the risk of sounding like an evangelical preacher: it’s largely a “heart issue.”

For all of the time I’ve worried about not having enough money, it has also been a blessing. I have been slowly peeling back my captivity to the discontent and indulgence of our culture. I can see with tremendous clarity just how enslaved I’d been to “keeping up appearances” when we owned a home. There was always something else to change or add or renovate.

Having less money has mercifully pulled me out of that hamster wheel of keeping up appearances, cultivating discontent, and constantly coveting one… more… thing.

What is driving my desires?

I wonder if we begin with discontent, and then that discontent frees us to begin coveting. It’s a slow movement from one to the other.

So perhaps our commercials try to tap into our discontent and build it. And when that discontent builds enough, we start coveting. And that’s where we start cultivating the really destructive habits of indulgence. If we give in to those desires frequently enough, we become bound to them whether out of routine or because of a deeper spiritual battle that requires deliverance.

At the risk of sounding like my prudish fundamentalist friends again, discontent is a “slippery slope.” Indulgence gives way to more indulgence because it is never grounded in something meaningful or sully satisfying, and it’s terrifying to give yourself over to something so empty and unfulfilling. It’s far easier to keep going than to admit you’ve made a terrible mistake.

Sometimes it takes a little thing like the threat of running out of money to expose the terrible powers of discontent and coveting. As often as we feel trapped by not having enough money, it has advantages. There is freedom that comes from having less. Having less money reminds us that we’re just one financial windfall away from wrecking our lives with empty, endless consumption.

 

Hope for Those Who Have Been Wounded by the Church

Posted on by Ed Cyzewski

exit-from-church

I had the uncomfortable sense that Broderick would end up in therapy one day because of ministry. He had the look of a kind-hearted, well-intentioned lemming on the brink of charging off a hill—a hill called ministry. He asked people to call him, “Brod,” because he wanted everyone to treat him like best buds.

He was like a kid on his way to Middle School who expected everyone to be his forever friend. Brod only saw the upside of church—he was passionate about a career in ministry, committed to teaching the Bible, and putting relationships with others first. I could see how a church could leave him battered by the side of the road.

Burned out and weary from giving so much of myself to the church only to find that you end up stepping on toes and meeting opposition for even your best efforts, I’d long been disabused of the hope and enthusiasm that Brod exuded. Having swung to the opposite, more cynical side of things after several damaging church experiences, I thought to myself: you’ll see… some day you’ll see.”

I have no idea what became of Brod. As for myself, I’ve given up on any future ministry plans, but I’m finally hopeful again about church and what it can be.

When we expect church to be a place of healing, community, acceptance, and growth, it can be devastating to stumble into a series of personal turf wars, theological battles, vendettas, popularity contests, and power struggles. On the other side of things, it’s hard to see how things could be any other way. If you get a group of 200 people in the same room, any 200 people, and try to find music, learning styles, and activities that suite them all, you’re going to lose your mind. It’s only our cultural expectations and previous experiences of church that reign in our preferences and create a starting point when we gather together for worship.

I have two rules now for church. I may add to them or modify them in the coming years, but for now, here they are:

  1. Look for life.
  2. Commit to people first.

 

Looking for Life in Church

If I look at my previous church experiences, I often stuck around out of judgment or obligation. And if I did step out of a church for a season, I beat myself up with heaps of guilt.

Today my first question about church is if I feel free to worship God with these people, whether in the service, in small groups, or in other settings. Are these people experiencing the life of Jesus and imitating him in some distinguishable ways? Do I experience the freedom and joy of the Spirit with these people? Am I free to learn and be challenged by the Spirit? Do these challenges lead to more life and freedom?

You get the idea. There’s always a temptation to slip into a consumer mindset, but seeking life and “freedom” rather than what feels good is an important, if not fine line at times. We experience life and God’s presence often in the places where we are most challenged and where we are led to seek the deeper experiences of God.

If God’s Spirit is restricted by theology or an order of service, then I have no qualms with bailing. If the Bible is used to control, judge, and prove one side’s superiority, it’s time to jump ship on that church.

I’m not saying you should give up on every church ever. Just that church. There are churches that will guide you to God’s life. Sometimes we are so focused on the meager benefits of a toxic church that we overlook its judgment and harmful theology that could alienate us from God.

 

Commit to People First in Church

If you give up on having an opinion in the church as an “organization” or “movement,” you will eliminate the majority of your potential conflict with fellow Christians. In fact, I dreaded the fate of an optimist like Brod because, as a pastor, he was mandated to have an opinion of his church’s organization and future. As often as we hear about pastors who abuse their authority, there are just as many (if not more) unreported stories of pastors who have been hounded by members of their congregation. In addition, anyone who gets in the way of church members vying for control of their turf will get run over.

As I recovered from a series of negative church experiences, I found it immensely freeing to personally commit to the people rather than the church organization and its ministries. If the church stopped meeting tomorrow, would I still commit to community with at least some of these people?

That means I’m trying to depend on the people around me and to support them as often as I can. I’m not trying to keep the church as an organization going. I’m trying to keep the people going. And I know, I know, I KNOW… the church IS the people. I wasn’t going to say it, but I know someone will… so there.

I certainly have opinions about the church as an organization, but after giving so much of myself to the ministries of various churches, I was left empty and disappointed. The more I’ve invested in people, the more fulfilling my ministry has been and the less I’ve stressed about the songs we choose, the ministries we offer, the topics of the sermons, the facility budget, or whatever else.

* * *

I understand this course may not be viable for everyone. You may feel called to manage your church’s facilities for instance. Have at it. I’m not saying what you should or should not do.

I’m saying that I’ve been deeply disappointed and hurt by the church in the past. And when your source of hope and healing becomes a source of conflict and pain, you need to change something.

I’m sure that therapy could help my friend Brod quite a bit, especially if that therapy helps him face the sources of his pain and move forward with forgiveness. If Brod does need some therapy after working in a church, he may find this post helpful. I believe that we can rediscover community with Christians after a bad church experience. And while a different church can help, a vastly different outlook is actually more important.

When we’ve been damaged by church, the most important changes need to take place within ourselves. Seeking God’s life and supporting people over an organization has worked for me.

What has helped you recover from negative church experiences?