Jacob Sahms

Noah Spence was on top of the world. As a linebacker for Ohio State University, he was a big man on campus and a sure-fire NFL talent. He came from a good home, cared about his schoolwork, and did what he was supposed to. But then he discovered that he liked to party – and experimented with ecstasy. He still completed work on the field and in the classroom, averaging As and Bs, so he figured that everything was going fine.

Until he received a drug test randomly and found himself temporarily off of the team. Repentant, he stayed free and clear of the drugs, and worked his way back into nearly acceptable status. Heading into the last weekend of the summer before his junior year, he went out with friends – and did ecstasy one more time.

Unaware that a final drug test loomed for him the first Monday of school.

A second offense found Spence off of the team. Utterly broken, he repented to his parents and to his coach, Urban Meyer. He entered drug rehab, and continued to work on his education. Upon watching his remorse – and determination – Meyer recommended him to a friend coaching at the smaller Eastern Kentucky University football team where he proceeded to tear up offensive lines. Impressively, he exploded at the Senior Bowl, and continued to send his drug tests (all clean) to every NFL team.

Spence thought he had it all together. He thought he was in control of his destiny – and his needs. But several poor decisions – and one last second loss of self-control – jeopardized everything.

Honestly, it’s easy to point a finger at addiction when we discuss Self Control in the Fruits of the Spirit. We know people who are addicted to alcohol, cigarettes, maybe even something stronger. It’s possible we know someone who struggles with addiction to pornography. The statistics say that we know someone who struggles with one of these things, but the truth is – society has come to accept them all.

In 1985, I went out early on a Sunday morning with my dad. We had a weekly routine – just the two of us – that included going to the local convenience store (a Cumberland Farms) for the newspaper and a Dunkin Donuts for Dad’s coffee and my donuts. This was back in the day when DD issued a free donut card to kids. Those were the days!

But on this Sunday, our drive home was interrupted when another member of the faculty at my dad’s high school flagged us down. He proceeded to recount that a carload of students had been out drinking the night before, and in their haste to beat curfew, had wrapped themselves around a telephone pole. To my ears, this was the worst news I had ever heard. I’d seen these young men play soccer (my favorite sport) the day before, and I realized I would never see them play again.

At that moment, in my eight-year-old mind, I made a promise that I would never drink alcohol. To be completely honest, I never have. But not just because of that promise.

Instead, I came to realize by watching my own behavior – and hearing stories about my great grandparents – that addictive personality runs in my family.

Quite simply put – if I like something, I’ll do it to extreme.

So, not drinking was an easy choice for me – and it comforted me as a college student – even as I watched other people struggle with it. But that’s part of our self-control problem: we see other people’s struggle and label it as problematic, and we fail to recognize our own lack of self-control.

There’s a story about Samuel Stokes, an American missionary, who walked through the Punjab, carrying only a water-bottle and blanket, trusting wholly to native hospitality. In one village he was given a particularly hostile reception. The headmen of the village sat in chairs in a circle, smoking, leaving him the whole evening sitting on the floor. When he asked if he might nurse their sick and teach them, they hurled horrible insults at him; but he made no reply. Then they gave him stale crusts in a filthy bowl. He thanked them courteously, and ate. For two days this lasted. On the third day, the headman laid his turban at Stokes’ feet as a token of respect. He explained that they had heard that Jesus’ disciples were commanded to love their enemies, and had decided to put him to the test. The result had amazed them. Now they brought him their choicest food, and were eager to hear his teaching. If he had lost his temper, he would have lost his chance. (Gospel Herald)

Have you ever considered whether you’re in control of your own temper? For some people, the first thing that comes to mind is the problem that they have with losing their patience (there’s another Fruit of the Spirit for you) and acting out in anger. It seems so simple, but ultimately, it’s not just our actions.

James 3:6 goes extreme: “The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one’s life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.”

Later, “With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness. 10 Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring?”

I don’t know about you, but “ouch.”

Here’s some truth from the preacher. I had never said a cuss word until college. My parents were strict, and I abided by the rules. But surrounded by (ahem) more diverse language, I learned to adapt – and found that I could conjugate words in ways people had never thought of. In fact, it proved to be funny – and I fell into using it frequently and with enthusiasm.

Sure, I was going to chapel. And I was in several Christian organizations. But left to my own devices…

I finally hit a low point at the end of an intramural basketball game. (Some of you know where this is going…) The referee, a hall mate of mine, was terrible, missing calls and completely ignoring play at other times. My language toward him was horrendous – and hurtful, but in the heat of the moment, I’d lost my self-control.

The final whistle blew, and I knew I’d made a mistake, several mistakes. As we walked back to the dorm (another ouch), I apologized profusely. I was ashamed of how I’d behaved, and incredibly saddened by the things I said.

Graciously, my non-Christian hall mate accepted my apology, but I spent the night thinking about how I’d let down what I believed by my lack of self control.

And there you have it: I’ve never been ashamed of the times I held back from expressing my anger or not lashing out at someone (whether they were right or wrong). But there are times I wish I hadn’t spoken – or acted. There are times that my self control or lack thereof got in the way of who I want to be. The repercussions for losing control can be … disastrous.

Loss of control of our eating.

Loss of control of our driving.

Loss of control of our spending.

We don’t get to compartmentalize our lives. We have to be responsible for everything that we do and say.

A year ago, Syracuse University basketball coach Jim Boeheim was found to be guilty of a “lack of institutional control.” Over ten years ago, an investigation discovered academic improprieties in the Syracuse program. Even though Boeheim wasn’t found guilty of knowing that several of his players had cheated, the NCAA believed he should have known what was going on. He had lost control in their estimation, and so he was suspended for over a month of the season.

Even in society, a lack of control is seen as a symptom of a bigger problem.

I wonder if Paul doesn’t have self control listed last on purpose. Hear again Galatians 5:22-23: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”

“Against such things there is no law.” Yes, we’re supposed to love, to show peace, to be kind. But if we’re not in control of our own actions, then none of these other things matter.

If we don’t exhibit self-control, Paul knows that we’re showing off a bigger problem than a momentary lapse of judgment. We’re showing our sin of self by being focused on what we need, or feel, or want in the moment, rather than loving others and putting themselves above ourselves.

What is truly amazing is how much we complain about things we can’t control: taxes, illness, other people! But when it comes to looking at the things we can control, we sometimes fail to show up. Sometimes, we act like someone – or something else should take responsibility for those things.

When driving on the highway, I’ll sometimes switch the car over into cruise control. With the push of a button or two, I can settle back and not worry about the speed of the car. Unfortunately, that means I can sometimes be distracted by other things, like the song on the radio or the beeping of my phone.

Slipping into cruise control at life works that way, too. We can be distracted by our anger, our frustration, our impatience, etc. We can lose our self control because we’re caught up by a loss of control. We’re guilty – and we fail to make changes that would help us focus on the things we should.

So look at your own life today. What do you need to take responsibility for? What do you need to pray to God to help you overcome? What do you need to ask others for help with?

The truth is that we are ultimately responsible for who we are and what we do. When we walk by faith in God, he’ll provide us the grace we need to grow in self control, and forgive ourselves when we fail to follow through.

God’s grace. It’s what grows our grace, our love, our peace, our faith. Thankfully, it can help us grow our self-control, too.

The writing assignment for the week was to develop a persuasive argument. My students were immediately bubbling over with excitement. Rather than writing about a descriptive tour of their own homes or the story about who they wanted to be when they grew up, they could argue. This was what they had hoped they could do all semester long; our class, in fact, often resembled a debate club.

On the day that the papers were due, one enterprising student announced that his paper was the best and that no one could argue. Having some idea about what he had written about and knowing his writing skills, I imagined that there would be some argument but that there would be a healthy conversation. When his turn came, he walked boldly to the front of the class and began to read an essay entitled “Why Every College Student Should Own a Gun.”

As he read, some students grinned, some shook their heads, and others … watched me. I listened carefully to his argument, given that many of them had heard me discuss guns prior. As part of the process of reading the paper aloud, the class would respond with what they thought he had done well, what he needed to work on, and whether he had persuaded them.

The outcome was mixed.

While the students were primarily eighteen to twenty years old, they came from different backgrounds. Some of them were from suburban, well-to-do families; others had grown up in rougher sections of their communities in poverty.

After the class had debated the point, they turned to me expectantly. The author assumed I would commend him for his idea; the class was still mixed. And then I asked, “Have you ever been in a state of mind where the decisions you made were ones you regretted later? Have any of you lost anyone to gun violence? Have any of you been in a situation where the violence escalated because people had guns?”

Suddenly, the classroom was almost silent – something that never happens in my classes. There were nodding heads, and a few glistening eyes. It didn’t matter how well the paper was written – or how persuasive it was. Somehow, in my class, they realized that I was asking them to consider whether the right to bear arms was one that everyone needed to use, especially college students in the midst of hormones, lack of sleep, too much caffeine, and feats of bravado. This wasn’t about gun control anymore but whether or not power was something that had to be always asserted or not.

Yes, my ‘day job’ bleeds over into my teaching. I’m always asking myself questions that I end up asking my students.

Am I using my “voice” correctly?

Am I treating others the way I want to be treated?

Am I being responsible with the power that I’ve been given?

It’s annoying sometimes, to consider the Fruits of the Spirit. They often fly in the face of how we feel like acting, instead opting for a tougher route that takes us in a path away from what society might tell us is a natural or appropriate reaction.

Gentleness. Meekness. Humility.

All of these ideas are wrapped up in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Jesus called the uneducated, not the experts, to be his disciples.

Jesus lived as a homeless man, counting on the kindness of others.

Jesus died penniless (and friendless) on a terrorist’s cross.

But if we consider Jesus’ beginnings, he stayed true to where he came from.

Kyle Idleman puts it this way in his book “The End of Me” with the way it could’ve gone and the reason why he didn’t:

[Jesus] could have disembarked in one of the world’s great cities. {People would have said, “Right time, right place. Look what fate can do.”

He could’ve been born into a billionaire financial dynasty. People would have said, “Look what money can do.”

He could have been the child of an earthly emperor. People would have said, “Look what political power can do.”

He could have come by way of a celebrity family. People would have said, “Look what fame can do.”

Instead, he stepped into poverty, weakness, and obscurity, and all we’ve left to say is, “Look what God can do.” He takes a blank canvas of drab gray and says, “Watch this!”

God in Jesus chooses meekness. Some might confuse that as weakness. But as KB says, “If you think being meek is weak, try being meek for a week.”

Jesus, God’s own son, God himself chose to be born in a manger. To a lowly carpenter. Into disgrace as a child who was not of both parents.

If this is the example of the God of the universe, then how much more should we embrace humility, and meekness?

But it’s not easy – even the disciples didn’t get it.

In Matthew 20, there’s the story of how the disciples squabbled over who would be Jesus’ number one disciple.

Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came to Jesus with her sons and, kneeling down, asked a favor of him.

“What is it you want?” he asked.

She said, “Grant that one of these two sons of mine may sit at your right and the other at your left in your kingdom.”

“You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said to them. “Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?”

“We can,” they answered.

Jesus said to them, “You will indeed drink from my cup, but to sit at my right or left is not for me to grant. These places belong to those for whom they have been prepared by my Father.”

When the ten heard about this, they were indignant with the two brothers. Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave— just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

No one likes being last. I have it on good report that at preschool, the worst assigned task is to be the caboose of the line. We want to finish first – even if we’re not competitive, we somehow know that’s better. Ricky Bobby even said that second place is just the first place loser!

But there is one who likes to be last. It’s the shepherd. The shepherd is the one who comes behind, making sure that none fall out of line or get lost. The shepherd coaxes and encourages from the rear.

Dallas Willard, a professor and theologian, is one of those people who is “historically” meek. He was kind and understanding, and approachable. One day in his class, a student (with great ferocity) attacked and contradicted this pillar of faith. The student put down Willard and the school, in front of a shocked lecture hall. Willard finally spoke up, “I think this would be a good time to end class for the day.”

Afterward, he was approached by startled witnesses who didn’t understand why Willard hadn’t defended his teaching, why he hadn’t rebutted this rude student?

“I’m trying to practice not having the last word,” was his only response.

Somewhere, buried deeper down in some than others, there’s a shepherd in all of us.

Where meekness and humility come from.

Where the mentality that the God of the universe would wash his disciples’ feet, on the night he would die, a seriously inglorious affair if you ask me.

Where the sacrificial love of Jesus comes from.

It doesn’t come naturally to us but it was the nature of Jesus, the same Jesus we are striving to be more like, right?

So ask yourself today, what would it take for you to be meek? Could you be meek for a week?

Stop trying to have the last word.

Offer kindnesses instead of criticism.

Hold back from always being right.

Serve others before meeting your own needs.

It says that as we become the meek, that we will inherit the earth.

Sounds good, doesn’t it?

We’ve got to tackle meekness one word, one action at a time.

Embrace your inner shepherd.

My Facebook feed is littered with quizzes you can take to determine various levels of expertise, like…

How much do you love your dog?

How big of a fan of Star Wars are you?

How many of the state capitols can you name?

Most of those are pretty benign, right? But periodically, there are quizzes that by comparison go a bit deeper. These quizzes ask us to answer questions about ourselves and what we believe about politics, family, and even faith. They try to convince us that we can gauge things that are less quantifiable. Some of them even attempt to quantify one of the biggest questions in our lives:

How much of a Christian are you?

While the question itself is a bit artificial, it’s one that’s been bandied about by Christians and churches for years. Membership, baptism, church denomination, etc. All of these are marks various people have used to try to determine their “faith quantity.”

Some of you have even heard the question, “if you were on trial for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?”

Somehow, I’m not sure that’s God’s evaluation of faith works.

All of the Fruits of the Spirit are about faith, but Paul lists faithfulness as one of the specific fruits that disciples of Jesus should exhibit. While that might seem obvious, when it’s put in a list with love, joy, peace, and others, it becomes clear that disciples aren’t necessarily automatically faithful.

If we look at their track record, we can see that, as the closest friends of Jesus fall asleep during the hours he needs them to be praying – and his best friend abandons him as he’s being condemned to die. Disciples aren’t automatically faithful, but their faithfulness grows over time as they practice it.

Sometimes, it just depends on where you’re looking for faith.

The temporary Sunday School teacher was struggling to open a combination lock on the supply cabinet. She had been told the combination, but couldn’t quite remember it.

Finally, she went to the pastor’s study and asked for help. The pastor came into the room and began to turn the dial.

After the first two numbers, he paused and stared blankly for a moment.

Finally, he looked serenely heavenward and his lips moved silently.

Then he looked back at the lock, and quickly turned to the final number, and opened the lock.

The teacher was amazed. “I’m in awe at your faith, pastor,” she said.

“It’s really nothing,” he answered. “The number is on a piece of tape on the ceiling.”

Now, while this might be a funny aside about the nature of faith, it’s clear to me that everyone has faith in something.

Science. Technology. Philosophy. Love. Relationships. Family. Even God.

One of my favorite scenes to describe faith is Indiana Jones’ threefold quest to find the Holy Grail in The Last Crusade. He’s told that he must make a leap from the lion’s mouth as a clue, and when he arrives atop a stone lion, it’s at the edge of a great chasm. Across the chasm, he can see the opening in the rock to the path he is on.

But there is nothing he can see across the chasm that would keep him from falling.

Still, knowing what is at stake, he steps off the stone lion’s head… and finds himself on a bridge camouflaged perfectly to the stone around him. Where he thought there was nothing, a bridge to safety emerged. He never would have found it if he hadn’t taken that leap of faith.

Pretty cool analogy, right? Of course it is. But even more than illustrations, I love the stories of those in the Bible who moved forward in faith to follow the will of God. Real people, with real struggles, like you and me. But the people in the Bible who were proven to be the most faithful were those who were consistent in the small things – and the big things. When they received a test of their faith, they responded correctly – even if it wasn’t always on the first time.

For one, I am simply in awe of Abraham. So was the author of Hebrews.

Consider these verses from Hebrews 11: By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God. And by faith even Sarah, who was past childbearing age, was enabled to bear children because she considered him faithful who had made the promise. And so from this one man, and he as good as dead, came descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sand on the seashore.

By faith Abraham, when God tested him, offered Isaac as a sacrifice. He who had embraced the promises was about to sacrifice his one and only son, even though God had said to him, “It is through Isaac that your offspring will be reckoned.” Abraham reasoned that God could even raise the dead, and so in a manner of speaking he did receive Isaac back from death.

Abraham was called to leave his father’s land and go somewhere he’d never been. Think about that for a moment. Where would you go sight unseen? Who would you go there for? In Abraham’s case, it was the voice in the night – a God who he had yet to completely understand or know who  told him to move. And so Abraham did.

Abraham was called to believe that there was one God, not many, and that this God would be with him wherever he went. While we accept that God is with us, that Jesus lives in our hearts, in Abraham’s day, gods were understood to be localized in specific places. And yet Abraham came to understand that God was with him wherever he went.

Abraham was called to be the father of many nations – even though he had no sons at the time. Growing older without sons, he deviated from God’s best plan, taking his wife’s concubine to provide him with a son but he remained faithful that God would provide.

Abraham was called by God to surrender his son over to certain death as a sacrifice, and he went forward with the instructions he was given by God. While he was in the moment of his greatest act of faithfulness, God provided him another way.

In every moment, both the successes and failures of his life, Abraham found that God was faithful to what God had promised. It made Abraham’s faith more powerful because it proved that God was with him – and that God was faithful.

While Abraham may be the most explicit, most direct, example of faithfulness, the people in the Bible who shared their faithfulness with others were people who first believed that God was faithful.

Noah built an ark when there was no rain.

David believed he was called by God to be the king even though another king was already in place.

Daniel walked into the lion’s den because he refused to stop praying the most high God.

Simeon and Anna waited forever for the Messiah to be born, even as they grew old.

The widow put her last money into the offering at the Temple even though there was no guarantee she would ever receive more resources.

No matter what apparent craziness God called them to, the faithful of God always believed – and moved forward. It took time, patience, and stickwithitness- but they proved themselves faithful by practicing their ability to follow.

Jesus knew this was a lesson that his disciples needed. He shared stories of faith with them – and examples of faithfulness in his own actions. They were not always the faithfulness that others expected, as he often alienated the Pharisees by reinforcing that real faithfulness matched up with the heart of God, not a list of arbitrary rules. But Jesus always asked his disciples what they were doing – and if they were growing into the people God was calling them to be.

One example of this was his Parable of the Talents, where a ruler or owner gave three servants varying levels of gifts. He told them to use them as they saw fit. One buried his, and the other two invested theirs. Jesus’ parable said that the faithful ones were those who used their talents, who engaged in what their master was doing. Not everyone chooses to be faithful participants, Jesus seems to be saying, but those who do are rewarded with the growth of their responsibility and purpose.

It doesn’t what or how much responsibility these people were given, but their faithfulness showed their love for God. Whether they were given little or much, their faithfulness with what they had proved their faith.

I don’t know about you, but I want my purpose to matter. I want to be under the full spigot of God’s grace so that it washes over me – and allows me to be a conduit of it for others. But I have to be faithful if I want to live and apply my life in a way that pleases God.

That leads me to this question today: what is God calling you to be faithful about? Is he calling you to move or to stay? Is he calling you to embrace the new or revitalize the old? Is he using his call to strengthen your relationship or to make you a symbol for others?

When Abraham left his father’s tents, he had been told that he would be the father of nations, that his family would be a blessing to others. He had to wait many years until he saw the faithfulness of God fully come to fruition, but he pursued the path to which he’d been called even though he couldn’t see the bridge to safety.

God is always faithful, but when it comes to the Fruits of the Spirit, the only question remains: are you faithful?

In six days, Genesis depicts how God created everything – and saw that it was good. But a few chapters into the story of God’s people, they have chosen sin over and over again. They are no longer defined by their “goodness” as God’s creation but their brokenness. Thousands of years later, we’re still chasing good – and society tells us over and over again that we can get there on our own.

We are asked how we’re doing and we glibly respond, “I’m good.” We are afraid that if people saw cracks in our veneer, that the true essence of ourselves might be exposed. So we move forward, telling ourselves that we’re good – because we’re better than others, like goodness is a sliding scale. We throw up comparisons as ways of simply ignoring our sin. We are inclined to artificially create goodness by comparing ourselves to others, like watching Married with Children to feel better about our own relationships.

Brene Brown’s TED talk on vulnerability has been watched millions of times. But her sociologist perspective has insights that apply to how we see ourselves as we relate to God – and to each other.

“We are ‘those people,'” she says. “The truth is… we are the others. Most of us are one paycheck, one divorce, one drug-addicted kid, one mental health diagnosis, one serious illness, one sexual assault, one drinking binge, one night of unprotected sex, or one affair from being labeled ‘those people’ — the ones we don’t trust, the ones we pity, the ones bad things happen to, the ones we don’t want to live next door.”

In The End of Me, Kyle Idleman builds on those thoughts – highlighting how we think doing will somehow make us good.

We are the people who ignore the hurts of others, as long as someone else takes care of us. 

We are the people who yell at one another in the car on the way to church, then climb out with sunny smiles to demonstrate it’s all good.

We are the people who think God is somehow more impressed with us because we make up our own rules and follow them. 

We are the people who work fifty-plus hours a week, trying to prove our worth. 

We are the people who spend hours a day on social media, trying to convince people that our lives are better than theirs. 

In the pursuit of good, God looks at us – not at how we rate compared to others.

The other lie we can tell ourselves about our worth – especially our goodness – is our drive toward filling our schedules completely. Our days are busy, spent running here and there, trying to keep up but always falling a step behind. We have become convinced that if we would just do enough, that everything would be alright. We have bought into a “works righteous” behavior, a direct contradiction to what Jesus taught.

We know somehow that this can’t be all there is but … we need convincing. We are so inclined to buy into the American Protestant work ethic where we pull ourselves up by our hard work and grit that we almost can’t expect failure. In June 2012, the New York Times ran an article called “The Busy Trap,” citing from a general perspective how busyness was an artificially generated device to help us avoid reflecting on our own souls:

Busyness serves as a kind of hedge against emptiness; obviously your life cannot be silly or trivial or meaningless if you are so busy, completely booked, in demand every hour of the day. People are busy because of their own ambition or drive or anxiety because they’re addicted to busyness and dread what they might have to face in its absence. 

What would happen if we stopped being busy for busyness’ sake? If we actually stopped and looked at ourselves, examining who we are in the mirror of God’s grace?

In Ephesians 2:8-9, Paul says it this directly: “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.”

There’s plenty of truth there. One, it’s God’s grace that puts you where you are. Two, you obviously need saving. Three, it’s your faith that saves you not your own actions because Jesus already did the heavy lifting. Four, it’s a gift which you cannot earn. And five, you can’t take any credit for it, so stop comparing yourself to others.

In the pursuit of good, God will show us grace.

God points us to something different than comparisons or busyness. God says that everything can be used for God’s glory – even the things we’re inclined to throw away, like they can be replaced within forty-hours using Amazon Prime. God says that he doesn’t throw away, discard, or abandon anything. God is constantly in the business of taking the broken and making it better.

In Jeremiah 18, God shows Jeremiah this through a field trip to the potter’s house. God tells Jeremiah to go down to the potter’s house, where Jeremiah watches as a pot proves to have a defect in its creation. But rather than being burned up or thrown away, the potter continues to work to shape the pot until it is exactly as it should be. Jeremiah can see the pot from the outside – he knows it’s cracked – and can appreciate the beauty of its reformation. God always sees purpose.

In Tramp for the Lord, Corrie ten Boom’s ‘other’ book, she tells the story of an old Russian woman who had worked to help other Christians during the 1960s and 1970s as they were persecuted. Physically held back by multiple sclerosis, the woman used the one finger she could move – the index finger of her right hand – to type out passages of the Bible translated for others to read. While it was painful for her – and for others to watch – she held this acute perspective: the government ignored her because of her handicap, and so she was able to minister to people undetected by the police.

In the pursuit of goodness, God will use the unexpected.

But in the pursuit of “good,” sometimes, the biggest problem is that we can’t see we’re cracked, regardless of what method we’ve used to muddy the water. St. Augustine said it this way in his Confessions: “My sin was all the more incurable because I did not think myself a sinner.” We delude ourselves again and again into thinking that our problems are mere mistakes, not an outward sign of our inward selfishness. It’s another coping mechanism to battle seeing ourselves – and getting past ‘good’ on a sliding scale.

While all of this might seem depressing, hard to accept or wrap around our minds, the truth is that it highlights the greatest grace of all: God’s gift of his son Jesus Christ on the cross for our sins. While Isaiah 64:6 says that “All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away,” we have reminder after reminder that God doesn’t see us that way.

Isaiah goes on to say: “I delight greatly in the LORD; my soul rejoices in my God. For He has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels” (Isaiah 61:10).

Whatever paradigm or analogy you want to use, God doesn’t see your sin when you find faith in Jesus.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has gone, the new has come” (2 Cor. 5:17). We’re NEW creations!

“And to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness” (Ephesians 4:24). We have a new holy self like God’s.

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do” (Eph. 2:10). We’re created good in Jesus, like the initial creation in Genesis!

Colossians 1:22 puts it distinctively like this: “But now he has reconciled you by Christ’s physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation!”

You ARE good. Not because of your work or even your faith but because Jesus took on all of your sin and died for it. It’s not yours anymore. It’s washed away…

like the ground after a perfect snow fall…

like the shore after the tide rises and falls…

like a pot that has been re-molded into something new…

Jesus died once and for all so that we would be sheltered, protected, shielded from the effects of sin that we should receive. It’s like a cloaking device in Star Trek where the ship becomes invisible to those things which would destroy it, only in this case, Jesus’ sacrifice doesn’t just White Out the sin but removes it from our soul.

God’s love for us through Jesus is life-preserving and life-giving.

I read a story online about a forest fire – about a scorched earth moment where everything in this area of the woods was destroyed. A ranger found this bird literally petrified in ashes on the ground by the base of a tree. He has gently moved the bird with a stick and when he did, some baby chicks scurried out from under their dead mother’s wings. It was explained that the loving mother, aware of the fire about to descend upon them, carried her chicks to the base of the tree and gathered them under her wings. Though she would have instinctively known to get some place high to escape the rising toxic smoke, instead of flying to safety and saving herself, she covered her chicks with her wings and saved them (Tim Burt).

Friends, while we pursue the Fruits of the Spirit, I am struck by this.

None of us are good.

But thank God, Jesus is, was, and always will be.

In Paraguay, there is a town seated on top of a landfill. Every day, fifteen hundred tons of solid waste are dumped where people live. The families there are supported by the work their parents and older siblings do recycling. As you might imagine, there is not much there to give them hope of a better life, of one removed from the constant stench and social ridicule. And yet, when musician and ecological technician Favio Chavez saw the situation, he felt compelled to help. In fact, he created an orchestra fueled by instruments made from products found in the landfill, taught by Chavez himself, and made entirely out of the children of this town.

While much has been made of the story – videos of the Recycled Orchestra have been watched more than a million times – it all began with one man’s recognition of the possibility in others and his decision to extend kindness to those who others ignored.

Jesus put a value on kindness that we see throughout his life and teaching.

In Matthew 5:38-42, he says, “‘You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.'” Jesus’ expectation of his disciples is that they would a) not respond angrily or violently and b) that they would do good even for the person who asks of them unfairly.

A few verses later, he adds, “‘Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven. So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.'”

Kindness is an act of worship to Jesus – and one to be done privately, personally, intimately. It is not done for the praise of other humans, but for the development of the believer’s relationship with God. Kindness, Jesus says, is one of the things to proverbially “catch God’s eye.” Sounds important, heavy even.

The beauty of Jesus’ teaching and life is that it highlights those who are kind, whether they do great things or simple ones. The quantity of their kindness does not matter as much as the quality of their kindness.

In Luke 5, a group of men want their paralyzed friend to merely find himself in the presence of Jesus. When the obvious path to Jesus is blocked, these men provide us the best biblical example of breaking and entering, letting him down through the roof! Their faith – no mention of the man himself – cause Jesus to forgive his sons and heal him.

In Luke 7, when the rich host of a dinner party invites Jesus to his home and fails to perform customary hospitality, a prostitute bathes Jesus’ feet with expensive perfume and dries them with her hair. We can tell that her expenses would have set her back significantly but she simply washes Jesus’ feet. It’s the action, not the expense.

Later, in Luke 15, Jesus rebuts a learned leader with the Parable of the Prodigal Son, telling how a man’s ancestral enemy proves to both save his life and pay for his recovery. We don’t know how the expenses would’ve impacted the Samaritan; we don’t know if he was ever paid back. We are clear that he took the time to be fully present and kind when others proved too busy or too preoccupied.

Over and over again, looking at examples of kindness in the gospels, I found that kindness wasn’t always extravagant but it was often unexpected. The kindness we see highlighted here again and again was not done with pomp and circumstance but was the opposite of how the person in the story was expected to behave. Kindness showed up when A+B should’ve equalled C, and something good happened anyway.

Find your way blocked, after having carried a paralyzed friend many miles? Common sense says that you should return home.

Recognize that you’re a sinful person, see the power of Jesus? Turn your earnings over to God and find a better lifestyle, say the normal advice for conversion, but certainly, don’t blow your earnings on perfume.

Discover a rival, an enemy, a terrorist lying beaten on the road, knowing you didn’t have a hand in the suffering? The smart advice would be to ride on by.

There’s the common sense answer and the gospel of Jesus answer. There’s the world’s expectation of how we should appropriately treat other people – and the way that Jesus and Jesus’ disciples responded.

But kindness as we know it was all set up by the example of Jesus – and the way God loved us first.

“For God so loved the world…”

Doesn’t our understanding of kindness start there? I think it does. If we are going to be kind, then it must be because we recognize the kindness God showed us …

… while we were yet sinners…

…when we certainly didn’t deserve it…

…when we didn’t know which way was up…

…anyway.

If we’re going to be kind, we need to be able to recognize that we didn’t get here on our own. Isaac Newton said it this way: “If I have seen further than others, it is by standing upon the shoulders of giants.” Kindness makes us realize that we aren’t here on our own and that we can’t claim to have accomplished where we are on our own.

We needed help, somewhere along the way.

Someone picked us up. Someone dusted us off.

My fellow pastor, Tom, shared: “In my creatively mischievous days, we ‘rearranged’ the letters on a schools bulletin board and got caught. The person who caught us allowed us to ‘fix’ it and [somewhat] restore the board. We could have been burned to the ground. I’ve modeled my ‘authority’ after that incident and the merciful understanding of a wise adult.”

Another friend, Ruth, told me the story of the day her son died. “The morning my son died and I was literally falling apart two women from one of my churches came. One literally held me together. The other brought sausage biscuits & coffee and urged me to eat even as the tears flowed. Another lady came and set with me for at least an hour and held my hand the whole time. Even though I was in a deep fog I will never forget these wonderful kindnesses.”

Dawn wrote to me about how people responded when their house caught on fire. “When our house was hit by lightning and destroyed by fire, neighbors and friends helped us get through those first awful days, with clothes, dishes, furniture, and digging through debris looking for whatever might be salvageable. I will never forget the church couple who, having seen smoke coming from the direction of our house, came by to check on us, got our sizes, and came back a little later with new underwear, socks, shoes, toothbrushes and paste, and deodorant—-the essentials to be able to start the next day.”

We know kindness when we receive it. It’s obvious because we don’t necessarily deserve or expect it, but it finds us.

And then, when we pay kindness forward, we show our way of recognizing God’s prevenient, prevailing, prior grace on our parts- and the kindness that others have shown us – and paying it forward.

Kindness is the way that we participate in the circle of life that God sets – surprisingly, powerfully in opposition to the way that others might expect. Kindness is our way of saying, we might not have it all or even know which way is up, but we can do this, we can make a difference, we can own this moment.

Like school bus driver Jorge Munoz who goes home every night and cooks dinner for hundreds of homeless people on his home stove and spends the evening handing out food before driving the bus again.

Like the Central Washington softball players who carried their injured opponent around the bases, sacrificing their opportunity to win the game – and go to the playoffs – in a moment of sportsmanship.

Like Julio Diaz, who invited his mugger to dinner, shared his life story, and changed the trajectory of another man’s life by loving him where he was.

Like the Indonesian woman whose purse was stolen, who watched the young boy who’d stolen it be stopped and surrounded by an angry mob. While they were intent on beating him as punishment, she begged for his safety, listened to his story, and actually handed over some of her own money to help him out.

Because kindness isn’t weakness. Kindness isn’t a fault. Kindness is the glory of God breaking through our lives, showing a glimpse of the kingdom.

Kindness is when I recognize that I am not alone, that God is with me, that hope still wins.

I don’t know what kindnesses have been brought to your mind.

I remember the time that $200 showed up anonymously, when I shared a prayer request about needing $200 by the end of the day to stay in seminary.

I remember the time a coworker loaned me her car when I was young, employed, and suddenly car-less.

I remember the time I was offered a job that I didn’t quite qualify for because someone knew I needed a job.

I remember the times I’ve been taken back with open arms by people I’ve hurt, who forgave me anyway.

I remember that I am broken, sinful and selfish on my own, and God loves me anyway. 

Kindess is recognizing that the best is yet to come and we want to be part of it.

A sign of what’s to come. And we get to participate.

Hello, my name is Jacob and I am impatient. I hate lines. I hate waiting. And my constant focus on what needs done mixes with those ‘hates’ in a way that make me self-centered and self-focused.

But no one notices because we have allowed impatience to be the expectation – not the exception.

And then the Fruits of the Spirit in Galatians 5 annoyingly lists patience as … virtue.

A man observed a woman in the grocery store with a three year old girl in her basket. As they passed the cookie section, the child asked for cookies and her mother told her “no.” The little girl immediately began to whine and fuss, and the mother said quietly, “Now Ellen, we just have half of the aisles left to go through; don’t be upset. It won’t be long.”

The man passed the Mother again in the candy aisle. Of course, the little girl began to shout for candy. When she was told she couldn’t have any, she began to cry. The mother said, “There, there, Ellen, don’t cry. Only two more aisles to go, and then we’ll be checking out.”

The man again happened to be behind the pair at the check-out, where the little girl immediately began to clamor for gum and burst into a terrible tantrum upon discovering there would be no gum purchased today.

The mother patiently said, “Ellen, we’ll be through this check out stand in five minutes, and then you can go home and have a nice nap.”The man followed them out to the parking lot and stopped the woman to compliment her. “I couldn’t help noticing how patient you were with little Ellen…”The mother broke in, “My little girl’s name is Tammy… I’m Ellen.”

Ah, patience. It’s a virtue we’re told to cherish from an early age. It’s one of our Fruits of the Spirit! Generally, patience is defined as “the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset.”

Nowhere in there does patience sound like as much fun as love, joy, or peace, does it?

Patience is learned – and practiced – by continually being bombarded with situations that test our patience and challenge our resolve to not get angry or upset. But while we may occasionally acknowledge someone who we believe is patient, we can readily see situations where a loss of patience is catastrophic. And society continues to feed our impatience with fertilizer (!) that grows our “impatiens” quite well.

We have “fast food” where we’re supposed to get our food faster – and we pay more and more for food that is less good for us and of less quality.

We pay extra for the express lane on the highway, at the amusement park, and when it comes to shipping the things we want faster.

And this is passed on to our children. They can spend “credit” to accelerate how their apps develop, there’s “On Demand” so they don’t have to wait until the next day to watch the episode they want to watch. Their preadolescent pre operational self-centeredness is encouraged by the way society tells them to expect things NOW.

But the Bible again – so annoying, isn’t it? – has something to say about the opposite of NOW. Instead, the Bible says we should sometimes wait.

In fact, considering patience I recognized three ways we need patience. I didn’t aim for a three-point sermon, but this is how it works out sometimes! We need to be patient with ourselves; we need to be patient with others; we need to be patient with God.

Now, some of you are moving on to the second point already, but consider this: how patient are you with yourself? How do you accept the things that you can’t control, or the the things you want to change but don’t have the ability to instantaneously adapt?

Your changing waistline.

Your new job.

Your failing health.

Your relationship ‘status.’

Too often, we see things about ourselves, usually things we want to change, and we don’t like the timetable that it takes to change them. I don’t know about you, but sometimes, that frustration makes me impatient. It doesn’t even need to include a single other human being, but already, our frustration level is rising.

I know this frustration physically right now. After months of headaches and pain, I went to the doctor. She told me I had a stiff neck, that my mobility was nothing like it should be. Let’s be real, I’ve never been flexible. But here, thanks to months of stress and sickness, I’d reached a point where I needed help to make a difference. So, I’ve just finished my first week of physical therapy – and it hurts! I want to be better now but each muscle loosens over time, creating more and more change.

This is ultimately about timing, right? We expect instantaneously results, like we can ‘level up’ immediately. But changing our health requires adaptations to our diet, our sleep schedule, our exercise routines. They are not going to happen immediately but the payoff is worth it in the long run.

The same is true of our prayer life – or our church participation. Too often, we expect that if we show up, if we do the right things, everything will just fall into place. But often, we need a heart change – and those take time.

I recently watched a film about an art thief who received a heart transplant. The man who died was a family man and a person of faith, who shared his love with everyone. The thief was no good – he had in fact had something to do with the death of the other man. But over time, his interaction with the dead man’s family, hearing his story and seeing the impact of  the other man’s life, made the thief consider how he was living. It didn’t happen immediately, but his heart changed over time.

Sometimes, for our hearts to change, we have to practice the other fruits of the spirit – and be patient that they will take root.

This brings us to the second ‘patience,’ that of being patient with other people. Like love, joy, and peace, patience requires practice and oh how do we get practice! Weekly, daily, hourly. If you have small children, it might even be moment-by-moment!

Whether it’s a little tug with a request for another snack or a text reminding you of your honey-do list, we have moments where the things we have to do become seemingly insurmountable. Throw in a little injustice or end up on the wrong end of someone else’s free will, and there’s a snowball effect that has less to do with winter and more to do with the rising heat of our frustrations.

So what can we do about patience? How can we practice it?

I think it starts with the little things. Doesn’t life work that way quite a bit?

We have to pray that God would give us patience. We have to ask for help!

And then there’s the little matter of what we do that makes us impatient. For example…

I am always late. I’m the pastor, I teach a few classes, I write for some websites. I’m a husband, and father of two boys. I spend up to two hours in the car daily, driving somewhere! There is always something to do – and society tells me, not enough time to do it. But I’m learning – hold the applause, I’m a slow learner – that trying to do less actually makes me accomplish more.

If I don’t try to get one more thing done, I can leave early. The traffic jam, the train crossing, the stoplights don’t have to add to my impatience because I left in time to get where I’m supposed to. If I’m not stressed out, I don’t get (as) impatient with other drivers, I’m less inclined to mutter under my breath, I’m less inclined to end up needing to go to PT for a stiff neck…

Yes, patience for others requires remembering the lessons we learned about love, joy, and peace, but patience is one of the most obvious Fruits of the Spirit for us to literally practice.

Don’t rush around.

Bite your tongue.

Remember the lessons your mom taught you about only saying something if you have something nice to say…

And then there’s the third patience – patience with God.

One of the sayings I least like is “all in God’s time.” It’s usually uttered when someone is hurting – especially grieving. It’s a rotten time to say it to someone who is in a dark place. But if we step back, we might realize that being patient for God’s time is about finding our way into the place where who we are and what we do is focused on being

When we wait on God’s time, we grow. When we recognize that God has a plan for us, we can see that things work out in the long run – when we see how God has shown up for us and in the history of the world before.

In Psalm 27:14, David took it a step further, “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!” Not only did David recognize that God’s time was better, but he realized that when he was patient on God’s time that he made the situation about when God showed up, rather than what he could do.

If we see the problem and get impatient, we forget that God is bigger than the problem. Sometimes, our impatience is a symptom of something else – and God is working to help us get to the bottom of it.

An old story reminds us that long ago, our forefathers came to this country and “homesteaded” certain portions of land which belonged to the government. This was virgin soil. Much of it had to be cleared of woods and brush before it could be cultivated. It took long, arduous months of work before the land was cleared and crops rewarded the homesteader. But with patience and perseverance much was accomplished and the pioneer was the proud possessor of fertile fields and brought him rich return for his labor. In clearing the land in the days of the pioneers the task of cutting the trees and removing the thickets and underbrush covering the land was but a small portion of the work involved, for this could quite quickly be accomplished by burning the wood. The difficult part of the work was the removing of the roots and stumps and stones which were underneath the surface of the ground but which must needfully be removed before the work was complete and before cultivation could be undertaken. If this was not done within a short time the area would be covered with a second growth, as difficult to remove as the first.

When we think things aren’t happening fast enough, we get caught in the quicksand of us. When we think things aren’t happening fast enough, maybe it’s because we haven’t cleared the ground – and made sure that our foundational layer is in order. We get locked in on thinking that life is all about us and our wants and our needs, that other people’s timing – and even God’s timing – is an inconvenience to us.

But…

When we put our full focus on God, we recognize that everything is possible – right when it’s supposed to be.

I pray today that we would practice patience, and grow in grace. May God give us just what we need to see this fruit of the spirit come to full bloom in our lives!