Unapproachable Light

This next semester I’ll be getting discipled by Gordon (who is our church’s advisor to ACF).  I’ve always wondered, “what exactly is the point of a discipler?”  I know that it’s important and I know we’re supposed to imitate those who imitate Christ and blah blah, but I could never point my finger on the reason why a discipleship-discipler relationship was good.

Ultimately, I think what Brendan Kiu told me was the most important point of a discipler: a discipler can say to someone else, “hey, I’m not above you or below you, but in His time God has revealed some things to me, and I want to share them with you.”  It sounds pretty simple, but at the core of it, a good discipler brings out a thirst for God.

See, in the past 27 months that I’ve called myself a follower of Christ, countless people (especially Steve Tanwanteng and Andrew Lee) have re-oriented me and pointed me back to Christ.  And my thirst for God only grew stronger, because while I was being idiotic and short-sighted, these folks saw a bigger picture and revealed to me that God was something greater than I could imagine.  

More recently, when I started taking the role of a leader and even a teacher, I became preoccupied with sharing the things that I had learned with others.  And this is a good thing—but it can’t be the only thing I’m doing.  Without being constantly “poured into”, I’m left to try to see more and more of God by myself.  I think that if this is the case, burn-out will eventually occur.

Being discipled is an awesome joy that God has provided for both our edification and for the proclamation of His glory (hah! They’re actually the same thing).  And with this upcoming semester, I look forward to being challenged by Gordon and reminded that the God I am pursuing is limitless.

(Note that this has some interesting parallels to physics as well.  The happiest physicists are the ones on the cutting edge of research—not because it gives them fame or monetary grants—but because they’re chasing after something so elusive and majestic that will probably never be understood in its entirety.  Knowledge only supplements this quest for truth—and it’s definitely a joyful quest.  Plus there’s even more joy to know that God will one day reveal His mysteries to us.)

In the community of Christ, there are two apparent sides to the spectrum of servitude: serving others and being served.

Oftentimes we hear sermons or reminders to go out and serve our brothers and sisters—because Christ came for the very same reason.  Likewise, we want to imitate Paul or Peter or James or Timothy, who consider themselves servants of Christ Jesus.  

Pastors talk about being active in the church, that we might be constantly looking to give back to the community.  It is a natural extension of godly love to give offerings of both belongings and time to the bride of Jesus Christ.

But I am more concerned with the inverse: being served by others.  This is a point that many people, like me, completely neglect. Why is it even a problem?

One reason for my unwillingness to be served is my pride: I don’t like being assisted or benefited from another’s actions.  I get caught up in the I can do anything and everything attitude (which has screwed me over many times).  I don’t like being indebted to someone else for their thoughtfulness or care or help.  Thankfully, my [solitary] failures have expedited this process of learning and I’m starting to understand the necessity of letting others serve me.

It’s also just straight-up stupid to deprive others of the right to serve me.  Honestly, there is joy in serving others in the name of the Lord, and it’s selfish of me to think that I can serve while others can’t. 

I guess the final note on serving mirrors what Sang Tian said during our Acoustic All-Campus Worship: let us not become so preoccupied with serving that we forget the “good portion” of life—the share of God’s kingdom that is our inheritance, in which we only now see a foretaste of heaven.

Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching. But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.”

Luke 10:38-42

I’m buying a book about how to be a godly father.  What is going on.

A few weeks ago, I was talking to one of my friends who was dealing with something that he had heard, which was causing him to stumble in his faith—and therefore he wanted to avoid it completely. At that time, I challenged him to not run away from his problems. But looking back on it, I’m not sure if I egged him into a battle that he wasn’t supposed to fight. God designates different paths for us and equips us with different strengths, minds, and even faiths.

I guess that brings me to the question: If we don’t quite understand some portion of scripture, or if we have doubts about God’s workings, should we trouble others with our burdens/lack of faith?

We do seek truth—and Jesus certainly stood for truth. In fact, He’s the only truth out there, so I do believe it’s important that we stay mindful of the fact that He is the foundation of everything true and reasonable.

But on the other hand, who are we to drag others into our personal quests for truth? With such limited a perspective, I can’t honestly say that the truths I seek will even matter to someone else’s walk with God.

My uncertainties are my problem—and if I am to be judged by every word that I say, does it mean that I should keep my mouth shut unless I have something edifying to say? In that case it’d be better to leave others alone and let them ask their own questions.

Is it worth the risk of asking a question that might bring others down, so that you might find an answer that will lift you up?

Relevant: Since unbelief is a sin, Mathew 18. Not causing hindrance to a brother, Romans 14, 1 Corinthians 8 (sorta). Keeping mouth shut, James 3.

Final notes/disclaimers: After writing this, I realize that this may seem like it’s directed at some of you—it’s not, it’s directed at me. And it’s certainly not an attack on anyone either, but rather a lump of genuine thoughts/questions. 

If we ultimately appeal to human reason, to logic, or to historical accuracy, or to scientific truth, as the authority by which Scripture is shown to be God’s words, then we have assumed the thing to which we appealed to be a higher authority than God’s words and one that is more true or more reliable.

Wayne Grudem, Systematic Theology (p. 78).

This makes perfect sense to me but it doesn’t help me.  Ironically, it’s this logical statement which downplays the inviolability of logic that truly shows that human logic is incomplete.

[O]ur full persuasion and assurance of the infallible truth and divine authority thereof, is from the inward work of the Holy Spirit bearing witness by and with the Word in our hearts.

Westminster Confession of Faith (ch. 1, para. 5)

And the work of the Spirit, which is more than a feeling but only grasped in our feeble consciences as a feeling—this instead gives me my assurance that God’s word in the Bible is truth.  Oh, the irony.

Lord, the more I’ve seen You do, the less satisfied I am with contenting myself to worldly things or confining You to just some small portion of my life. This semester, because I have grown, I’ve also had trouble sustaining the growth, since I also needed to focus so heavily on my studies. I had tasted and seen that You were good to me, but then found that I couldn’t follow You in the same way as before, if I wanted to keep up with schoolwork.

Ultimately all this work is for You and I don’t doubt that You would ordain my mission to be in the physics academic community. But I don’t know how I can continue trying to give You my all in both academics and my spiritual life. Perhaps I’m being a bit selfish, but I really long for those days where I could grow in Your word and in Your body. To be honest, I don’t want balance, I just want the comfort of Your arms.