If we want to finish well in our ministry, we do well to look to those who have walked before us. In my studies and conversations I have noticed several I wish to elaborate for these articles.
First, they practiced discipline, at the heart of which was prayer.
Sister Marie Bonaventura was living a relaxed life as a nun in Rome. After much encouragement, she was finally persuaded to attend a conference on the Exercises, the disciplines of the spiritual life. The very first meditation was on the purpose and end of man. The meditation inspired such fervor in her heart that the priest, giving the meditation, had scarcely finished when she called him to her, and said, “Father I mean to be a saint, and quickly.” She then went to her cell, and writing the same words on a scrap of paper, she fastened it to her crucifix, where it would be a constant reminder.
The saints have all known that there is no way “to be a saint, and quickly.” St. Francis de Sales gave direction for our beginning journey. ”We must begin with a strong and constant resolution to give ourselves wholly to God, professing to Him, in a tender, loving manner, from the bottom of our hearts, that we intend to be His without any reserve, and then we must often go back and renew this same resolution.” (St. Francis de Sales, A Year With The Saints, p. 2)
One of the most inspiring models of discipline in the sports world over the past few decades was the rise of Tiger Woods. He is unquestionably one of the best golfers in the history of the game. At age twenty-one, he won the Masters Tournament – the youngest ever to win and by a record twelve strokes. In an article on “How the Best Golfer in the World Got Even Better,” Don Goodgame wrote:
For a glimpse into the greatness of Tiger Woods, look past his runaway victory in the British Open at St. Andrews last month. Forget his triumph – also by a record margin – in the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach in June. And set aside his prospects for stomping the field in another major tournament, next week’s PGA Championship at Valhalla. Consider, instead, what Woods did right after he dominated the 1997 Masters. He studied videotapes of his performance: blasting 300-yd. drives, hitting crisp iron shots right at the pins, draining putts from everywhere. And he thought, as he later told friends, my swing really sucks.
Now let’s put that in perspective. Woods had joined the pro tour only seven months earlier, at age 20, and captivated the game and its fans as no rookie ever had. He had won four of the 15 PGA Tour tournaments he entered, earning millions in prize money and some $60 million in endorsement contracts from the likes of Nike and Titleist. At the Masters, against the best golfers in the world, he had virtually lapped the field, winning by a record 12 strokes. He was being hailed as the next Jack Nicklaus, who is considered one of the greatest golfers of all time.
And now, incredibly, Woods was going to risk it all by overhauling the swing that had brought him to this summit. He told his coach he wanted to make serious changes in the way he struck the ball. The history of such efforts is not auspicious. Some fine golfers – Ian Baker-Finch, Steve Ballesteros, Chip Beck – have revamped their swing and never returned to their earlier glory. What was Woods thinking?
“I knew I wasn’t in the greatest positions in my swing at the Masters,” Woods said during an interview. “But my timing was great, so I got away with it. And I made almost every putt. You can have a wonderful week like that even when your swing isn’t sound. But can you still contend in tournaments with that swing when your timing isn’t as good? Will it hold up over a long period of time? The answer to those questions, with the swing I had, was no. And I wanted to change that.” In other words, Woods, already considered the best by many of his peers, was gambling that he could get dramatically better – and was willing to do whatever he thought might help him someday surpass his idol Nicklaus as the greatest ever.” (Time, August 14, 2000, pp. 57-58)
Though Tiger’s fall from such heights have since been well documented, one cannot deny his discipline on the links. It is a challenge to would-be Christians. Anyone who has read the gospels knows that Jesus’ call is to a “narrow way.” He couldn’t have made it clearer.
How to Grow Spiritually: The Role of Discipline in the Christian Life
Then Jesus told his disciples, “if any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it or what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life? (Matthew 16:24-26).
Paul also made it scathingly clear: “I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” (Romans 12:1)
I don’t know a Christian in all the ages to whom we turn for teaching and inspiration who did not give himself or herself consistently to discipline and devotion. It should be obvious that we need to place the disciplines for the spiritual life at the heart of the gospel. The purpose of discipline is to enhance our relationship with Christ, to cultivate a vivid companionship with Him. It is through spiritual discipline that we learn to be like Him and live as He lived.
In his book, The Road Less Traveled, psychiatrist Scott Peck observed:
There are many people I know who possess a vision of [personal] evolution yet seem to lack the will for it. They want, and believe it is possible, to skip over the discipline, to find an easy shortcut to sainthood. Often they attempt to attain it by simply imitating the superficialities of saints, retiring to the desert or taking up carpentry. Some even believe that by such imitation they have really become saints and prophets, and are unable to acknowledge that they are still children and face the painful fact that they must start at the beginning and go through the middle. (p. 72-73)
Sister Marie Bonoventura’s commitment may have been genuine: “Father I mean to be a saint” but her time-line – “and quickly” – is really laughable. We “must start at the beginning and go through the middle.”
The beginning is, as de Sales said, “a strong and constant resolution to give ourselves wholly to God” and the middle consists of often going back to renew this same resolution.
What Does Obedience to God Really Mean? Beyond Rule-Following
Another characteristic of the saints is that they were concerned about obedience. They were convinced that obedience was essential for their life and growth. We remember that word of Jesus: “Not every one who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of My Father in heaven. On that day, many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and cast our demons in your name and do many deeds of power in your name?’ Then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; go away from me, you evildoers.” (Matt. 7:21-23)
We do have a right to ask, to seek, and to know the will of God, but once we know it, nothing but obedience will do. The saints sought to arrive at the place in their relationship to Christ that their one longing was to live and walk in a way that would please God and bring glory to God’s name.
Obedience meant abandonment. Jean-Pierre de Caussade wrote to one who depended upon his spiritual guidance that abandonment to God “is, of all practices, the most divine.”
Your way of acting in times of trouble and distress gives me great pleasure. To be submissive, to abandon yourself entirely without reserve, to be content with being discontented for as long as God wills or permits, will make you advance more in one day than you would in a hundred days spent in sweetness and consolation. Your total abandonment to God, practiced in a spirit of confidence, and of union with Jesus Christ doing always the will of his father, is, of all practices, the most divine. (Llewelyn, pg. 101)
What a simple, yet profound expression of abandonment: “to be content with being discontented for as long as God wills or permits.” A friend of mine, Norman Neaves, was the pastor of The Church of the Servant in Oklahoma City. He shared about a member of his congregation who wrote him a letter at 2:47 in the morning. She couldn’t sleep that night, was upset and troubled on the inside, so she poured her feelings out to him. This is what she wrote:
Which state of grief is this? Or is it grief at all? Just when I experience a little consistency in my new life alone, the next rug I step on is pulled out from under me. Is this all a part of adjusting, or am I being humbled for some greater purpose? My faith is not strong enough to stand on. But my instinct to survive this lonely stretch of my life is so compelling that I’m able to leave the security of my past and go on. Why do my thoughts wake me up in the night, screaming out for paper and pen? There are so few answers, I’ve found. It would be nice to have the comfort back, but not at the expense of my very own soul. So what can I do? Well, I think I will continue to feel my way back through the dark, feeding my faith until someday the lights come on again. (“Living Down In the Valley, sermon preached December 2, 1990)
Does this remind you of the Apostle Paul?
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. . . I rejoice in the Lord greatly that now at last you have revived your concern for me; indeed, you were concerned for me, but had no opportunity to show it. Not that I am referring to being in need; for I have learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me. (Phil. 4:4-7, 10-13)
Our spiritual formation is a dynamic process, a growing willingness, or even a willingness to be made willing, to say yes to God every day in every way possible – no matter what the circumstances may be. The more we pay attention to God, the more aware we will become of the yet-to-be redeemed areas of our life – and the more we will need to abandon ourselves to the transforming power of the indwelling Christ.
How to Know God’s Will: Scripture, the Holy Spirit, and Christian Community
Jesus made clear how essential abandonment is when He taught us to pray, “Thy will be done.” There are two common ways we pray this prayer. Sometimes, we wrestle against God. We receive intimations of something God wants us to do, some call – and we wrestle against God because we are not sure we want to respond. Or, we come face to face with an issue of God’s justice and holiness – and we resist. We don’t want to do it.
But there is also another kind of wrestling. It is not wrestling against God; it’s a matter of wrestling with God against that which opposes God’s will. It really becomes a matter of spiritual warfare. We sense that there are forces within our world which are opposed to God’s will: sickness, hate, meanness, narrowness of spirit, fear, lethargy, prejudice, and ill will. I speak of our warfare against the forces of darkness – we wrestle against Satan himself. We set ourselves against all such forces and to them we cry, “God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”
There is the whole issue of abandonment. Sometimes when we pray, “Thy will be done,” it is a declaration of submission in which we confess that we do not know what is best but we want God’s will. We struggle, we wrestle, we stay in the presence of the Lord until our hearts are made tender, and we’re ready to trust God and surrender our will to Him.
My favorite story about Lourdes has to do with an old priest at that famous healing center who was asked one time by a newspaper reporter to describe the most impressive miracle he’d ever seen there. The reporter expected him to talk about the amazing recovery of someone who had come to Lourdes ill and walked away well. “Not at all,” the old priest said, “if you want to know the greatest miracle that I have ever seen at Lourdes, it is the look of radiant resignation on the face of those who turn away unhealed!” That’s abandonment! – thy will be done as a declaration of submission, confessing that all we want is God’s will – because we know that it is best for us.
There are three seeds which, when planted in the soil of obedience, produce the fruit of God’s will in our lives: one, Scripture study; two, conferencing, that is deliberately and honestly sharing with godly persons for edification and discernment God’s will and guidance; and three, divine conviction wrought by the Holy Spirit.
In the divine school of obedience, we all know there is only one text book – and that is Scripture. We also know there is only one model – and that is Jesus. We also know and have experienced the way the Holy Spirit will plant a deep, deep conviction without our lives, calling us to go in a particular direction.
What Is Christian Conferencing and Why Does It Matter for Spiritual Growth?
I want to talk about a resource of knowing God’s will that I think we pay too little attention to – that is Christian conferencing. Jesus promised that where two or three are gathered together in His Name, He would be present with us. Conferencing with godly persons who love Jesus, who want God’s will for their lives and for us, is a trustful and dependable way to seek God’s will.
One of the most dramatic moves in my life was based on my accepting God’s will through Christian conferencing. My primary calling is clear: to be a pastor/preacher. I was exercising this vocation with great joy, fruitful response, deep meaning, and continual spiritual growth as senior minister of a large congregation. People were being converted, healed and coming to maturity in Christ. Our outreach ministries to the “least of these” and to non-Christians were expanding. My wife and I could not have been happier. We had served that congregation for twelve years, and intended to stay until retirement.
Then came the call to the presidency of Asbury Theological Seminary. For months I would not even consider the possibility, refusing to even talk with the search committee. The Holy Spirit impressed upon my wife the notion that I should at least consider what seemed to be a clear call through the committee. So we did – but without clarity on my part. In desperation, really, I began a conferencing process with Godly persons whom I loved and trusted, some with whom I had shared my Christian walk for twenty-five years. I knew they loved God. I was certain they loved me, and wanted God’s best for me.
It was through them that I discerned God’s will. Since making the decision to accept the seminary presidency seven years ago I’ve had little doubt (and that only during brief periods) that I was in the center of God’s will. Over and over again my calling to this ministry has been confirmed.
As stated earlier, there is a general will of God for all His children which we can, to a marked degree, learn from the Bible. There is, however, a special individual application of God’s will concerning each of us personally. This comes to us only through the Holy Spirit. On these occasions, the Holy Spirit plants solidly in our being certain convictions about God’s will. We dare not quench the Spirit. Yet, it is altogether in keeping with God’s direction that we test these convictions with Scripture and Christian conferencing. Again, however, once we know God’s will, nothing but obedience will do.