“Renovation of the Heart” by Dallas Willard: Five Thoughts

This is already the third post I have written this week…after only writing three posts in the previous four years! I say that only to caution that this frequency probably won’t be maintained, but as I’m trying to get things off the ground again, I thought it may be helpful to have as much new material as I can.

With that said, this week I decided to become a “real” blogger this week, pony up a little bit of cash, and simply the URL. So now you can find us here at http://www.davidheffren.com. I figure that if I spend money on the blog, I’m more likely to actually write on it. It’s the same reason I sometimes buy new running shoes. If there’s one thing I hate more than exercising, it’s wasting money.

I’ve been thinking about things that I could be writing about, and that led me to today’s post and what I hope will be a reoccurring theme here. I’ve always been a big reader, though sometimes I’ve been more lax in that area that at other times. However, since the pandemic hit and I’ve had more time at home than normal, I’ve been trying to spend more time reading. I thought it might be helpful (and maybe even fun!) if, when I finish a book, I shared a few highlights or ideas that stuck out to me. This will be most useful to me than anyone else, I suppose, as it will help me digest what I’ve read. But maybe you’ll find something interesting here as well or decide to check out the book yourself.

Last week I finished reading Renovation of the Heart: Putting on the Character of Christ by Dallas Willard. So without further stalling, here are five thoughts from this book:

1. This book is about spiritual formation. Normally, we might think of spiritual formation as something that is a uniquely Christian topic. But Willard points out that all people have experienced spiritual formation, because all people have spirits that have taken one shape or another. He writes:

Spiritual formation, without regard to any specifically religious context or tradition, is the process by which the human spirit or will is given a definite “form” or character. It is a process that happens to everyone. The most despicable as well as the most admirable of persons have had a spiritual formation. Terrorists as well as saints are the outcome of spiritual formation. Their spirits or hearts have been formed. Period. (p. 19)

2. Throughout the book, Willard uses the term “apprentice” where most other Christian writers would use the word “disciple.” He doesn’t really draw attention to this word-choice, but it does become noticeable as you read along. This may be a helpful way for us to think about what discipleship is. The goal of an apprentice is to learn from and eventually become like their master. The same is true of disciples of Jesus. We follow Jesus, learn from him, and follow his example of life with the goal of becoming more like him. If you’re around church for long, you hear the word “disciple” so often that it can be easy to forget it’s meaning. Seeing a different term used serves as a good reminder of what it means to be a disciple of Christ.

Everyone’s spirit has been formed. Maybe it’s been formed by Christ, or maybe it’s been formed by culture, by family, by education, by media, or by any of the other influences in our world. The role of the church, then, isn’t just to lead people in a process of spiritual formation. We lead people into spiritual transformation. None of us are blank slates when we encounter Christ. We come already shaped in some way, and we allow Christ to begin to reshape us into his image and character.

3. Willard reflects on the difficulty (or even the impossibility) of making a decision to obey Christ in the moment of temptation or crisis if a person has not adequately prepared themselves to face that situation. He writes:

I will not be able “on the spot” to do the good thing if my inner being is filled with all the thoughts, feelings, and habits that characterize the ruined soul and its world. Rather, if I intend to obey Jesus Christ, I must intend and decide to become the kind of person who would obey. (p. 90)

This is so true. In order to live righteously, we can’t choose to live righteously only in the moment of decision. We must choose to do so before we meet that point. Willard calls this “Training ‘Off the Spot.'” An athletic metaphor may help here: If a professional basketball player wants to excel, he can’t only play basketball during the game. He must train himself in practice so that, when the game comes, he is ready for the challenge. We need the same approach to our discipleship. This is why spiritual disciplines (things like Bible intake, prayer, worship, community) are so key: They form us into the kind of people who are ready to obey God when the time comes.

4. Near the end of the book, Willard writes something that I initially found pretty shocking to read, and I imagine many other church leaders would be surprised as well:

It is, I gently suggest, a serious error to make “outreach” a primary goal of the local congregation, and especially so when those who are already “with us” have not become clear-headed and devoted apprentices of Jesus, and are not, for the most part, solidly progressing along the path. Outreach is one essential task of Christ’s people, and among them there will always be those especially gifted for evangelism. But the most successful work of outreach would be the work of inreach that turns people, wherever they are, into lights into the darkened world. (p. 244)

At first glance, it may seem Willard is bashing evangelism as a task of church, and we may think, “Wait, isn’t evangelism what the Great Commission all about?” But what I think Willard is pointing to is the fact that, for evangelism to be effective, is must come from disciples of have truly experienced transformation into the character of Christ. Church outreach does little good if the people of our church are not growing into Christian maturity. The most effective evangelistic tool is a life that has been changed by Jesus. In our desire for outreach, we can’t afford to neglect the work of spiritual transformation.

5. The previous ideas I’ve highlighted have all been ones I’ve found helpful, but there is one area of Willard’s presentation about which I still have questions. One of the main ideas of the book is that we must be transformed in six essential areas of our human nature: our thoughts, feelings, spirits, bodies, social relations, and souls. Willard describes what each of these human dimensions are and how they relate with one another. But if I can be honest, I have always been confused by discussions that seek to differentiate the “spirit” from the “soul” of a person, and I can’t say that Willard clarifies this for me. He says that the role of the spirit is “to organize our life as a whole.” He then later writes that the soul is “that aspect of your whole being that correlates, integrates, and enlivens everything going on in the various dimensions of the self.”

Now I will admit, I have never done a deep study on the concepts of soul and spirit, or looked at how the Bible uses these different terms. But the way Willard explains them seems confusing to me. I’m curious if any of you have heard a helpful differentiation of what the spirit and the soul are and what they do?

Overall, I found Renovation of the Heart to be a helpful book in directing my attention to the importance of character formation from the inside out as I seek to obey Jesus more and more. This is the second book I have read by Willard (the other is Spirit of the Disciplines). His writing style can be a little dense, so you need to be ready to pay close attention to some complex arguments. But if you’re able to slow down and soak in what he is saying, I think you’ll find a lot of useful material about the our nature as human beings, a vision of what Christ wants to do in our lives, and some practical steps to take to be transformed into the image of Jesus.

The Screen Between Me and Myself

Hello friends. It’s been a long while since I’ve written anything. But now that Opening Day is coming to an end and the Cincinnati Reds are well on their way to going 162-0 this season, it may finally be time to put fingers to keys once again.

A couple years ago I did a lot of thinking about the influence that digital technology and social media has on our lives. Specifically, I focused on how these technologies shape the way we think and influence our relationships with God and with one another. This was born out of my interaction with two books I head read at that time: The Shallows by Nicholas Carr and Alone Together by Sherry Turkle.

Recently I began reading Turkle’s newer book, which is titled Reclaiming Conversation: The Power of Talk in a Digital Age. I wanted to read this because, well, I don’t consider myself the greatest conversationalist (at least, if being a good conversationalist means making eye contact with people and not falling into awkward silence every twenty seconds). I am not very far through the book yet, but it has brought be back to this consideration of how our technology is shaping our lives. What I have seen, even just in the first few chapters, is that our embrace of digital technology (smartphones, gaming, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, YouTube, texting, and so on) not only affects how we interact with God and with others, but also affects the way in which we understand ourselves.

According to Turkle, meaningful conversation begins with solitude, of all things. It is by first understanding ourselves as unique individuals that we become best prepared to interact with other unique individuals. And so solitude is important. It develops empathy, creativity, and a “stable sense of self” (pp. 61-62). It creates space for self-reflection, which Turkle defines as “the conversations we have with ourselves in hope of greater insight about who we are and want to be” (p. 79). Time spent alone in solitude ought to be a regular part of a healthy lifestyle.

But today, we don’t spend much time alone. With smartphones in our pockets and tablets or laptops in our bags, we never have to be alone. We can experience instant connection at any time. The thought of true solitude makes us feel anxious. We think it’s boring. But with a few taps at a screen, I can be looking at pictures, statuses, updates, videos, and all sorts of other things. I’ve noticed how difficult it is to experience solitude in my own life. Whenever I’m forced to stand in a check-out line at a store or restaurant, my first impulse is to pull out my phone and check in. If I’m reading a book, I make sure to have my phone right near me (you know, just in case someone texts).

But is this really a problem? Is this anything to be concerned about in the first place? I think the answer to these questions is: Yes.

Solitude is a means by which we come to know and understand ourselves better. When I’m alone, I encounter myself. I think about who I am and who I want to become. I reflect on my hopes, fears, goals, dreams, and regrets. And, as a Christian, I think about all of these things in connection with my relationship with God.

This is what it means to engage in self-reflection. But the digital age doesn’t promote self-reflection. Instead, as Turkle explains, it encourages self-presentation (p. 81). When we come to the online world, we don’t present ourselves as we truly are. Instead, we project a specific version of ourselves–namely, a version designed to garner the greatest number of likes, comments, or retweets.

This is something I think that we all do, to some extent. For example, as much as I try to write with openness and authenticity, the truth is that the “me” you’re getting in this blog isn’t quite the same as the “me” which exists in real life. It’s a “me” that has been edited and designed to sound intelligent or funny or whatever.

This becomes a problem when we flee from meaningful solitude and self-reflection. Without such time in solitude, we can fail to see the differentiation between our true selves and the “self” that we have presented in the online sphere. We may come to feel that our projected online self is our true self, and we will therefore value ourselves based on how “liked” we may be in the online world. Our own sense of worth becomes dependent on the amount of online traffic we can generate. Hopefully I don’t have to explain how terrible of a measure of self-evaluation that can be.

And so my simple encouragement today is that you seek out moments of solitude–disconnected from the technology that has become so much a part of our everyday lives. It may be in those small moments like waiting in line or lying in bed while you fall asleep. These are chances to daydream and reflect. But it should also happen in more purposeful settings, when you turn off your phone and put your tablet away so that you can spend time alone, or maybe spend time with a good book or a journal, and truly reflect on who you are and where you are going.

What I have found in my own life is that the pursuit of these moments is like learning to walk again. I’ve become so adapted to a constantly-connected life that thirty minutes away from my phone or computer feels laborious. But I think habits of solitude are worth it. They allow us to come to know ourselves better, and from there we’re more equipped to relate with one another.

The Words We Choose

Last night I watched the Academy Awards on TV. I watched, in part, because I really like movies, and in part because I was secretly hoping that “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” would be the surprise-winner of Best Picture (I mean, how surprising would it be for a movie to win that wasn’t even nominated, right?!). During the course of the show, there was a term that was used that I had never heard before.

One of the films that had received nominations was “The Danish Girl.” I haven’t seen this movie, but what I know about it is that it is about Lili Elbe (formerly Einar Wegener), a transgender individual and artist from the early 20th century. When talking about the movie, the presenters in the show said that Elbe had undergone “gender-confirmation surgery.” I had never heard it called this before. I had heard of a sex-change, or a sexual-reassignment, but “gender-confirmation” was a new one for me. And it got me thinking.

My purpose in this post isn’t to write about transgender issues. Rather, I want to consider the way in which language is used and how the words we choose shape the way in which we understand reality. Language is rarely neutral, and the term “gender-confirmation surgery” is a case in point. It says much more than it might seem to at first. To speak of a “gender-confirmation” implies that the surgery is in some sense a correction. That there was a flaw in Elbe’s biology. It suggests that Elbe’s true self was as a woman, and that the surgery brought alignment between identity and physiology.

There is an article written in the Huffington Post by a surgeon who performs such surgeries. In it, he explains that uses the term gender-confirmation surgery because it is “a more accurate name for the procedure.” He writes, “If such surgery helps confirm the way a person feels he or she was meant to be, shouldn’t the name reflect that truth?” Now take what I’m about to say with a large grain of salt, because I’m obviously not a doctor, but is this truly the more accurate name for the procedure? At the very least, it’s a very loaded term–one that goes beyond the physical procedure and comments upon identity and psychology. And as the term becomes more common in our discourse as a society, the more it will shape the way people conceive of gender issues.

The worldview-shaping effect of words can be seen in any of a long list of issues. Almost any topic we talk about is shaped by the words that can be used. Consider, for another example, the way we talk about abortion or right-to-life issues. I myself am “pro-life,” and I believe that the rights of the unborn ought to be resolutely protected. But what of those who think otherwise? Wouldn’t the logical opposite of pro-life be…pro-death? Or maybe anti-life?

Of course, that isn’t the way the discourse has been framed in our society. Instead, we talk about being “pro-choice.” At the level of denotation, “life” and “choice” are not at odds. But these are the words we use, and each carries with it a grouping of connotations and implications. They shape the way in which we think about the issue.

So my plea today is simply that we all pay close attention to the words we use, and of the words that are used toward us. Think about what these are really saying. How are these words ideologically shaped? For Americans like me, this may be especially important in an election year like this, when a lot of people are talking about a lot of different things in a lot of different ways. It can be easy to get lost in the muddle of “spin,” and it requires deliberate clarity of thought to see through to the truth of what is being said. Political discourse is just that–political–and politics are rarely if every neutral.

Words matter. Language can construct the lens through which we see the world, and our job is to (at the very least) be aware of the way in which this happens. The words we allow into the public discourse today can be the foundation of worldviews ten years from now.

In all seriousness, though…how does that BB-8 droid work?!

Ministry in Obscurity

This week I was fortunate to be able to attend the Preaching & Teaching Convention, which is held every year at my alma mater, Ozark Christian College. Conferences such as this are some of my favorite times of the year, and this week was no different. I love the chance to catch up with old friends; I love the worship and the sermons; I love the encouragement I get from hearing stories of how God is working through his people throughout the world.

But at the same time, these conventions often come with another side for me. It’s not fault of the conference itself or of any of the people there. Rather, it’s a result of the sinfulness in my heart. The thing is that I tend to compare myself to others. That’s an unhealthy habit in any situation, but perhaps especially so when in infects a context of ministry. I really do like hearing about and seeing others’ successes in ministry, but there is always a part of me that sees the people on stage or hears the stories of megachurch pastors, and I think, “Why aren’t I there? Why don’t I have those same opportunities?” And so even though I always leave weeks like this encouraged, there is a part of me that can easily become wrapped up in envy and jealousy.

With all of that in mind, this week I feel that God has impressed an important question on me. That question is this: Am I okay with obscurity?

That is, will I be okay with it if my picture is never on the back flap of a dust jacket? Will I be okay if my name is never on a course schedule? Will I be okay if I’m never invited to speak at a convention? Will I be okay if my sermons are never put on a podcast? Will I be okay if I never lead a church to double in size? Will I be okay if traffic on my blog is never very significant? Will I be okay without awards and honors? Will I be okay with serving God even if it means no one ever knows my name?

As I’ve been thinking through all of this, I have been reminded of the Fourth Gospel of the New Testament. Tradition holds that this gospel was written by the apostle John (and I think there are good reasons for thinking this). According to the other gospels, John apparently had a pretty big personality. He and his brother James were known as “Sons of Thunder.” When a village refused hospitality to Jesus and the disciples, James and John asked if they should call down fire from the sky to consume the villagers. And later on, they requested that they be given seats at Jesus’ right and left hand in the kingdom. They sought power, recognition, and honor.

But there is an interesting feature in the Gospel of John, and that is that John’s name never appears. Other disciples are named: Philip, Nathanael, Andrew, Peter, Thomas. But John’s name never shows up. The most common understanding is that the figure called “the disciple whom Jesus loved,” who shows up several times in the Gospel, is in fact John. But he never states this explicitly.

John had been one of Jesus’ closest disciples. He was one of the “inner three,” along with Peter and James. He had done miracles and preached the gospel. He was apparently the only one of the Twelve who was present at the crucifixion, and he was one of the first to witness the empty tomb. He had an impressive resume. And yet, when writing the story of Jesus, John didn’t identify himself by his accomplishments, deeds, reputation, or even by his name. Instead, his identity was grounded in the simple truth that he was loved and redeemed by Jesus.

John made little of himself but much of Jesus. And shouldn’t that really be the attitude God is seeking in those who serve him? The question before me is “Am I okay with obscurity?” And until we can answer that in the affirmative, why should God use us? Why would we expect God to utilize messengers who are going to steal the spotlight away from Him? As followers of Christ, we are like publicists: our job isn’t to highlight ourselves, but rather to point people to Jesus. And maybe that requires at least a willingness to live and work in obscurity.

It’s a lesson I’m learning. Like many lessons, it’s one I have a pretty good handle of in my mind, but also one I have difficulty allowing to seep into my life and heart. It’s counter to how our society so often works. We live in an age when business and leadership publications give advice on developing a “personal brand” (which is a weird idea in the first place, right?) A number of people (I think first of some athletes, but I’m sure others do too) have personal logos! This cultural mindset can so easily infiltrate our churches and ministries, and suddenly our work can become less about magnifying God and more about getting our name and face out there.

It’s a hard lesson to live. But we have a story of a Son of Thunder who became an anonymous gospel-writer. The Spirit of God in John produced humility and love and selflessness, and that same Spirit will continue to reshape our twisted and inflated egos when we allow Him to, and when we joyfully embrace the possibility of obscurity.

 

Darwinism and the Embrace of Weakness

“Survival of the fittest.”

That’s a pretty common phrase that you probably hear on a near-regular basis. It’s most closely associated with Charles Darwin’s theory of natural selection, in which organisms most suited to their environment are more likely to produce offspring, thus causing evolution within the species over time. But we use the phrase in other ways as well: when we talk about business, sports, politics, and a host of other things. In fact, survival of the fittest may be one of the true cornerstones of the way we live our lives in the United States. But lately I’ve been thinking: How does survival of the fittest resonate with the Christian message contained in the Bible?

I started thinking about this a couple weeks ago as I was reading a new(ish) book by N. T. Wright titled Surprised by Scripture. In the first chapter, Wright is discussing the the relationship between science and faith when he makes this observation:

Basically, the American dream is that if you get up and go, you’ll succeed; the egalitarian hope is that the fittest will survive the economic jungle. This is simply a given, an unexamined presupposition that lies behind, for instance, the gut-level reaction against any kind of health-care proposal: after all, if these folks were fit to survive, they’d be out there earning a living! It also works at the international level: America has grown to be the leading superpower, so if America doesn’t like a regime somewhere else in the world, then America–with a tiny bit of help from her friends, of course!–has the right and duty to go and bomb it and effect regime change. And my point, as you will readily see, is the great irony that often those who are most opposed to Darwin when it comes to reading Genesis 1 are in fact most deeply in thrall to him, or to the wider application of his theories, when it comes to social and international policy. (pp. 16-17)

Could Wright be right?…er, I mean, could he be correct? Is it true that while many conservative Christians dispute Darwin in matters of biology, we’ve accepted his principles in other areas of life and society? Has survival of the fittest even affected the way we understand faith and church? And how does this mesh with the message of Jesus and the apostles?

Wright mentions issues of health-care and international relations, but with a little thinking, I imagine all of us could see how survival of the fittest affects a number of other spheres in life. We live with the unstated assumption that the best, brightest, and most talented will rise to the top and thus deserve a higher level of status, position, or attention.

Think about how the hiring process works in any business. Whoever is in charge of hiring looks through resumes and applications for the “fittest”: the one with the best experience, the most education, and the most impressive references.

Think about how scholarships are given out to universities: to the ones with the highest GPA’s, the most extracurriculars, or the most athletic talent.

Think about how we choose political leaders: we are often drawn to those who project the greatest image of strength or bravado, perhaps without concern for other elements of that person’s character.

For my friends involved in the world of the church, think about how publishers choose their authors or how conferences schedule their speakers: it’s typically those pastors who lead the largest churches and have had what most would readily recognize as “success.”

My point is not to say that all of these practices are necessarily bad. When I take my car in to the shop (which I don’t do nearly as much as I should, by the way), I hope that they have hired the most qualified mechanics and not the least qualified ones. But I do think it’s important to recognize how much of an ingrained assumption survival of the fittest has become in the way we manage our lives, and also to identify ways in which this assumption is at odds with the values of God. Especially when we go to our Bibles and read passages like this:

Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to fall, and I am not indignant? If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness. (2 Cor. 11:29-30)

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Cor. 12:9-10)

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (Matt. 5:3-10)

When they came, [Samuel] looked on Eliab and thought, “Surely the Lord’s anointed is before him.” But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” (1 Sam. 16:6-7)

Darwin’s world is one in which the strong survive. And because this is such a central tenet of our own culture, it’s tempting lean on our own strength. We don’t want anyone to notice the chinks in our armor. We do it in our relationships, in our jobs, and even in our churches. We think that the ones who are obviously closest to God are the ones who seems to “have it all together,” that is, who do and say the right things out of their own spiritual strength.

But the truth is that we worship a God who prizes weakness; who blesses the poor and meek and hungry, and who chooses the youngest of eight brothers to be a leader. We worship a God who achieved victory, not through Darwinian strength, but through suffering on a cross.  And so maybe it would be best for us to stop clinging to our own strength, to accept our weakness, and to embrace the grace and strength of the Creator and Savior.

Heffren Book List: 2015 Edition

Here’s some New Year’s trivia for you: Did you know that “Auld Lang Syne” mean “Times gone by”? You probably did. But I didn’t until about 30 seconds ago, so now one of the great mysteries of my life has been solved.

Speaking of New Year’s, for the past couple years I have ended December by posting a list of my five favorite books I read during that year. I do this mostly because I like making lists, and I also like talking about things I’ve read and hearing about things others have read. So with that, and in no particular order, here is my list of the five best books I read in 2015:

1. Ready Player One, by Ernest Cline. This is a novel I picked up from the library during the summer and really enjoyed. If you were to combine The Matrix, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and an episode of VH1’s “I Love the 80’s,” you would get something like this: A story about a teenager who must solve clues in a digital world through his knowledge of 1980’s pop culture in order to win a coveted fortune. I didn’t even catch all the references in the book, but anything that can make use of the video game Joust and the movie War Games will be okay in my book.

 

 

2. Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking, by Susan Cain. I’m someone who leans on the more introverted and reserved side of things. This can be a frustrating personality trait in our American culture, which so frequently idealizes extroversion and being outgoing. Cain’s book, rather than trying to force introverts to become extroverts, makes the point that both personality types are important and offer creative and productive things to society. If nothing else, this book at least makes me feel a little more okay with my inability to maintain eye contact for more than about a tenth of a second.

 

3. Scary Close: Dropping the Act and Finding True Intimacy, by Donald Miller. People who know me are aware that Donald Miller is one of my favorite contemporary writers, so I was very eager to read this book, especially since it had been over four years since Miller had published. I’ve appreciated Miller’s candidness as he discusses what he learned about the importance of vulnerability and honesty, as well as the danger of control. The more we try to project an idealized version of ourselves to others, the more difficult it is for us to connect on a meaningful level. I’ve never felt like I’m great at relationships, but it’s an area in which I hope I’m growing, and this book had a lot to teach me on that point.

 

 

4. Kingdom Conspiracy: Returning to the Radical Mission of the Local Church, by Scot McKnight. McKnight is another of my favorite writers lately. In everything I’ve read by him, I’ve enjoyed the level to which he applies in-depth knowledge of Scripture to the practical issues Christians face in the contemporary world. What I like most about this particular books is the high value he places on the church. He makes the point that Christians often talk about “the kingdom of God” and “the church” as two completely separate things, so that serving the poor or engaging in mission is “kingdom work” while going to sitting through a sermon or singing praise songs is “church stuff.” But the two belong together, and it is primarily through the church that God’s kingdom should be most realized in the world. I think this is a book that can make church leaders and all believers excited about the place of the church in the world and the opportunities that lay before it.

 

5. Prayer: Experiencing Awe and Intimacy with God, by Timothy Keller. An area of my spiritual walk in which I consistently try to grow is in prayer. For one, this is such an essential part of the Christian’s relationship with God. And for two, I’m never as consistent or purposeful in it as I would like. I was therefore glad when I saw that Keller had written a piece on prayer. There may not be a lot here that is completely new or mind-blowing, but while Keller writes with simplicity and accessibility, his material is also profound. In this book, I especially like the material he pulls from Christian leaders of generations past (Luther, Calvin, etc.).

 

So that’s my list from 2015. What about you? What have been the best things you’ve read this past year? Leave a note in the comments. Thanks so much for taking some time to check out the blog this year, and have a great start to 2016!

For the Love of Doctrine (or For the Doctrine of Love)

What do you feel or think of when you hear the word “doctrine”?

This word has been on my mind recently as I have been reading through the book of 1 Timothy. It shows up even at the very beginning of the book, where Paul instructs his protégé Timothy to “remain at Ephesus so that you may charge certain persons not to teach any different doctrine” (1 Tim. 1:3). As I read through the rest of this passage, three related truths stuck out to me:

1. Doctrine is important

I think the reason that 1 Timothy’s comments about doctrine stood out to me is that it’s not a word I hear all that often on the lips of Christian’s today. In fact, I think that in some ways, we’re hesitant to emphasize doctrine. We might even be embarrassed about it. The idea of “doctrine” can seem somehow distant or cold. We think of ways that arguments about doctrine have resulted in denominational or congregational conflicts and even divisions. We can picture instances in which a person had used doctrine as a justification for treating others cruelly.

And so some Christians reason, “Is doctrine really that important? Should we get all worked up about the specifics of what we might believe? Isn’t it more important that each of us just does the best we can on this spiritual journey? After all, just because a person knows all the right answers doesn’t mean they’re walking closely with God.”

There is some validity to this. But still, much of our contemporary discourse misses the fact that, for the apostle Paul at least, correct doctrine is important. The church is instructed to teach certain things. And Christians are called to believe certain things: to believe certain things about God, about Jesus, about history, about ethics, and so on. There is content to our faith to which we are told to assent. So one of the first responsibilities Timothy is given is to ensure that correct doctrine is being taught in the church.

2. Sound doctrine results in love

I think one of the reasons some Christians have an issue with emphasizing doctrine is that they too sharply distinguish between what we think and what we do. It’s a distinction between orthodoxy (right belief) and orthopraxis (right living). They contend that it’s not enough to have your doctrinal ducks in a row; you need to live the life of love that Jesus commands for us and which he demonstrated.

All of this is a good point, and it’s one that Paul would share. So in 1 Timothy 1:5, he explains, “The aim of our charge [that is, the charge to teach correct doctrine in verse 3] is love that issues from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith.” The goal of sound doctrine is love. That’s where doctrine ought to lead.

I once had a professor who said (and I’m very loosely paraphrasing) that if your theology isn’t causing you to love more, then it’s a bad theology. If the doctrine of Scripture is truly taught and believed, love is the natural result. Orthodoxy leads to orthopraxis. Right belief should result in right practice.

3. True love is defined by sound doctrine

But when we get to this goal—when we begin to live a life of love—this doesn’t mean that we can then jettison doctrine. The danger here is that, too often, “love” is used to justify all sorts of behaviors. If we try hard enough, we can convince ourselves that anything we do is because of love. But for 1 Timothy, true love includes some actions and excludes others.

In 1 Timothy 1:9-10, Paul lists a series of sinful behaviors—those things that don’t fit under the title of orthopraxis. He writes that the law was intended for “the lawless and disobedient, for the ungodly and sinners, for the unholy and profane, for those who strike their fathers and mothers, for murderers, the sexually immoral, men who practice homosexuality, enslavers, liars, perjurers, and whatever else is contrary to sound doctrine.”

That last phrase is important, I think. It shows that all of the behaviors Paul had listed are inconsistent with sound doctrine. And because of this, they are inconsistent with love. If the aim of sound doctrine is love (1:5), then those behaviors that are contrary to sound doctrine (1:9-10) aren’t really loving.

Love is the defining characteristic of the Christian life (Rom. 13:8-10; Gal. 5:13-14). But it’s love as defined by God. Love isn’t something that we come up with. We don’t decide what is or isn’t loving. Love is revealed by God. And it has to be revealed by him, doesn’t it? After all, “God is love” (1 Jn. 4:8). So we determine what love is by examining the character of God, and this is a character revealed in his word in Scripture. In short then, it’s the love taught in sound Christian doctrine.

So maybe it’s time we recognize the importance to doctrine. Not at the expense of love; the two are bound up together. Paul tells Timothy to protect true doctrine. Why? Because true doctrine leads to the loving lifestyle reflective of the character of God.

My Vision

Hello, old friend.

It’s been a while. Almost three months, in fact. Isn’t that crazy? I haven’t written anything on here in nearly three months! It used to be my goal to write two different posts every single week. Yes, younger David was so naive. So idealistic.

You may be wondering why I haven’t written. Or maybe you’re not wondering that at all. But in any case, I’m going to tell you: It’s because I’ve been busy!

Some of you may know (and many of you may not know) that I’ve experienced a bit of a transition in my life recently. Specifically, a few weeks ago I began a PhD program at McMaster Divinity College in Hamilton, Ontario. Yep, Ontario. In Canada. So I’ve been rather occupied with that transition: getting a visa, finding a place to live, sorting out finances, trying to figure out what to do with all my stuff. And that’s just the logistics of moving. Then there’s the prospect of adjusting to life in a new country and starting an academic program for which I feel extremely unprepared and unqualified.

So it’s been busy around here. And stressful. Really stressful, in fact. Actually, can I be honest with you? (I’m all about honesty, after all). These past few months have, in a number of ways, been some of the most difficult of my entire life. It may be inappropriate for me to say that. I haven’t experienced any major tragedies, and many other people in this world have been dealing with much greater challenges than I have. I don’t mean to whine or complain. But it’s been tough. There has been a lot of doubt and a lot of second-guessing. There have been headaches, restless nights, and maybe a tear or two (or “stress sweat,” as I call it).

I almost quit. It was easy to feel confident about this new endeavor when it was still a long ways off, and I could abstractly tell people, “Yeah, I’m going to move to Canada to go back to school.” But when I finally got there and was confronted with the sacrifice this will take in time, in money, in energy, and in relationships–not in the abstract but in a very real way–I freaked out. I worried that I wasn’t up to the task. I wondered if this was even that task I’m supposed to be on. Would God rather I be doing something else? So I thought seriously about withdrawing from school, moving back to the Midwest, and finding something else to do.

Again, I don’t write this in order gain your sympathy or to move you to send me cookies in the mail to make me feel better. (I mean, if you want to send cookies, that’s you’re prerogative…no judgment here.) But I do write this so I can share with you what has helped me continue on so far. In part, it was the encouragement I received from a number of significant people in my life, as well as some new friends at McMaster. But more importantly, it was the words of an old hymn. We sang the hymn “Be Thou My Vision” a couple times at McMaster in my first week there, and coincidentally, we sang it also at church that same week. In case you’re at a church that doesn’t sing old hymns anymore, here’s what this one says:

Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art;
Thou my best thought, by day or by night;
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my wisdom, and Thou my true word;
I ever with Thee, and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, and I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise;
Thou mine inheritance, now and always;
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart;
High king of heaven, my treasure Thou art.

High king of heaven, my victory won;
May I read heaven’s joys, O bright heaven’s sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall;
Still be my vision, O ruler of all.

A lot of things have changed for me in these recent weeks. New location, new school, new people, new job (or, more accurately, no job). But in all of this chaos, there is always at least one thing that doesn’t change, and that’s the God I follow. It’s that he is my great Father, and he is the high king of heaven. And while I have a hard time understanding what I’m doing most of the time, and I certainly don’t know what will come next (or what may befall, I should say), I do know that God is consistently good, consistently powerful, and consistently present.

When I graduated from college, I had the privilege of addressing my fellow graduates. In my speech, I talked about John 15, where Jesus says that he is the vine and that we are the branches, and that we are only genuinely fruitful when we are in close connection with him. I was supposed to talk about “where we go from here,” but I said that the question “Where do we go?” isn’t nearly as important as the question “With whom do we go?” We need to go with God, and he may lead us into any number of places and into any number of situations, but as long as we keep him our vision, we’ll be okay.

I’ve needed a reminder of this truth lately. And maybe you do as well. So many people, and maybe you included, are going through difficult situations that seem burdensome and possibly even unbearable. And that’s difficult. But even so, God is still God, and we can find blessing and strength in the midst of difficulty by keeping him our vision, our inheritance, our light, and our victory. I think he’ll take care of the rest.

Heffren Book List: 2014 Edition

At the end of last year, I wrote a blog post highlighting a few of the best books I had read that year. Well, lo and behold, it’s already the end of another year, and that means another list! (It also means that all of us are going to be writing the date incorrectly for at least a couple weeks, but this post isn’t about that struggle.) And so below, I present in no particular order my five favorite books that I read this year. If you’re looking for anything to add to your reading list for 2015, you might want to consider one of these!

1. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams. I think it’s really difficult for a book to be laugh-out-loud funny, but this is a prime example of one that does this brilliantly. Even though I had previously read The Hitchhiker’s Guide and its sequels when I was a teenager, I laughed just as much–or even more so–on the reread. The characters and wit present in this lovechild of Star Wars and Monty Python make it worthwhile, not to mention one of my favorite literary characters, Marvin the Paranoid Android. “My capacity for happiness you could fit into a matchbox without taking out the matches first.”

2. The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains, by Nicholas Carr. This book actually inspired a couple of blog posts, which can you check out with the links here and here. So often in our day and age, we assume that every new technology and inherently good and beneficial. Carr challenges this notion by highlighting ways in which digital technology, from smartphones to social networking to Wikipedia — so prevalent in our society — may in fact have negative consequences for the way our minds work. It’s a troubling and urgent message that I think needs to be heard by all of us.

3. One.Life, by Scot McKnight. I was fortunate to run across a used copy of this book early this year. In its introduction, McKnight asks a key question: “What is a Christian?” He argues that many of us have given inadequate answers to this question for far too long. A Christian is not just someone who has accepted Jesus. A Christian is not someone who practices personal piety. A Christian in the truest sense of the term is someone who follows Jesus. As he unpacks this idea, McKnight shows that Jesus shouldn’t just be the mascot that we treat him as so often. Jesus is our Lord, and our lives are not about how we can seek his blessing on our own plans but rather on how we can fit in with what he is doing in the world. This book was challenging for me, and I also think it would be a great one for a book study among high school or college-aged students.

4. Jesus the King, by Timothy Keller. One of my major flaws as a human being (and there are many) is that I haven’t read as much Timothy Keller as I should have. However, I took a step in changing that by checking out Jesus the King, which focuses on the presentation of Jesus contained in Mark’s gospel and would make a great supplementary reading in any study of the part of Scripture. I can’t think of many Christian writers who are able to pull from as many diverse disciplines (theology, history, philosophy, sociology, psychology, literature, politics, pop culture, etc.) as Keller is in illustrating and applying his material.

5. Empire in the New Testament, edited by Stanley E. Porter and Cynthia Long Westfall. Admittedly, I haven’t quite finished this book yet. But it deserves a spot on this list because what I have read so far has been so interesting and insightful. This book consists of a collection of essays presented at a 2007 colloquium at McMaster Divinity College, all addressing the ways in which the Bible interacts with and oftentimes subverts the values of imperialism. This is definitely an academic work, and that may be off-putting to many potential readers. But I think this is important material for all Bible-readers. It’s worth remembering that much of the Old Testament, and all of the New, was written under the shadow of empire, so it is safe to assume that an understanding of such empires is necessary in properly understanding Scripture. It may also have something to say you a church culture that has such a tough time distinguishing between allegiance to nation and allegiance to God by reminding us of the biblical claim that Christ is king, and this means Caesar is not.

So that’s my list. What were your favorite books that you read in 2014? Leave a comment with your list, and have a great start to 2015!

The Next Pitch

I have a lot of respect for elite athletes. Probably because I’m not one of them. I spend more time at desks that I do on the field. Now I’m okay at a few things–maybe even average?–but I’m certainly not great. My lanky, bespectacled self does not possess the physical strength or agility to excel.

But physical ability isn’t all that goes into being a great athlete. Sports are mental as well, and a quality of the greats that I lack is their steely resolve. I’m always impressed by an athlete’s ability to so quickly forget the past in order to focus on the task at hand. This is what separates a great athlete from just a good one, very often. For example, a great pitcher in baseball is one who isn’t shaken when he gives up a home run. He gets back on the mound, confident that he’ll get the next batter out. An Olympic snowboarder might bite it on the half-pipe on her first run, but on her second, ready to stick every trick. The best basketball players may start a game 2-10 shooting, but when the team needs a buzzer-beater to win the game, he’s asking for the rock. The short-term memory of these athletes is what allows them to excel.

I wonder if this is a positive trait, not just in sports, but in life as a whole–particularly when it comes to decision-making. Either way, it’s a skill that I feel I lack.

In a recent post, I mentioned that I have some major life-decisions on the horizon. Actually, “on the horizon” may be inaccurate. They’re rapidly approaching me like Jaws does to a bikini-clad swimmer . I’ll be finishing graduate school in a couple short months, and then it’s time to decide what I want to be when I grow up, I guess. As a far as life-decisions go, that’s a pretty major one. But to be candid (since we’re all close–me and all you anonymous internet readers), I don’t know what the heck I’m doing, and I’m hesitant to really make a decision at all. I’m hoping that if I ignore the situation, it will somehow just go away.

Part of my problem, I think, is that I have trouble forgetting past mistakes and ill-conceived decisions. Some time ago, I made a real mistake. An “interpersonal blunder,” to put it delicately. And for a long time, I have been beating myself up over it pretty consistently. I focus so much on the dumb things I have done in the hinders me from making a decision on my future. It’s crippling, in fact. What if I choose wrong? What if I make a mistake? What if my life turns out horribly because of what I decide today? What if my errors in the past are just the beginnings of what will become a whole string of missteps? It’s all based on fear. Today I can look back and say, “I should not have done that, and my life is worse off because of the decision I made.” And I’m afraid that in five or ten years, I’ll look back to today and say the same thing.

I think that most of us would agree that it’s important to forgive others. In any relationship, one person will hurt the other in some way, and if the relationship is to survive and move forward, forgiveness must be offered. A relationship can’t progress without it.

But if that’s the case, I think it’s also important that we learn to forgive ourselves, and sometimes this can be the hardest kind of forgiveness. If I am consumed with the stupid things I have done in the past, I’m never going to take a real step into the future. I need to forgive the other to move forward in a relationship. And in the same way, I need to forgive myself to move forward as an individual. I can’t let the moonshot, the botched McTwist, or the string of air balls keep me from throwing the next pitch, starting the next run, or taking the next shot.

So if you woke up this morning thinking, “Gee, I sure hope that today I can get a glimpse into David Heffren’s insecurities and fragile mind,”–I hope that I was able to oblige. What I’ve written is about me and the issues I’m finding myself dealing with, but I write them because maybe some of you are in the same sort of situation. Let’s not let past mistakes dictate our futures. If those mistakes can be reversed and the situation fixed, then fine and good. But if not, we’ve got to learn to forgive ourselves.

After all, nothing is more demoralizing than the opposing team going back-to-back.

Except for your pitcher getting hit in the face by a line drive in spring training. But that’s a discussion for another day.