Menu Close

Tag: devotional

Members of One Body

Tracey Dyck 12 Comments


They will know we are Christians by our love (John 13:35 paraphrased).

Huh. Right now, it seems they know we’re Christians by our judgmental comments, pointing fingers, and loud arguments—not only aimed at the world, but slung at each other. We arrange ourselves into factions, draw lines between them, and proceed to shout down everyone not in our group. We attack each other’s beliefs. Goodness, we attack each other. We give one another the cold shoulder. We look down our noses at those people who interpret the Bible that way, which is definitely incorrect because it doesn’t line up with our way.

And yet, last I checked, we’re reading the same Bible. We’re serving the same Jesus. We’re brothers and sisters! Sometimes I wonder what our family must look like to everyone else . . . this feuding family in which mother, father, sister, brother, all stake out their corner of the room and react viciously to anyone who suggests that another corner is better.

Baptist, Lutheran, Anglican, Catholic, Evangelical, Protestant, non-denominational. We cling to these titles almost as if they are our salvation. We have our church names, our slogans, our spiritual paraphernalia, and heaven help any who carry a different one.

I am sick and tired of the division. What’s more attractive: the family whose members bristle with discord and acidic comments, or the family who loves each other and sticks together through any disagreement? When I meet either kind of families in public, there is one I gravitate toward and one I do my utmost to stay away from. What do you think our denominational division looks like from the outside?

Look, my siblings and I do not always agree. We have our spats. We’re far from perfect. But in the end, we’re still in the same family; we share the same blood. We carry a common name.

And yes, I do realize that a lot of us don’t actually treat other denominations as badly as I’ve illustrated, but I’m painting this subject in vivid colors in an effort to drive home a point. Why should these differences be such a focus? Don’t we all share more common ground than not? Ultimately, if you believe Jesus is the Son of God, fully God and fully man, and that he walked the planet, showed us how to live, then died and came back to life in order to bring us back to himself . . . then what else is there? You and I are kin.

I’m not saying theology is unimportant, either. We should always continue to dig into Scripture and discover more about who Jesus is, who we are because of him, and what our purpose is here. Always. And I don’t deny that there are Christians out there who believe things I consider unscriptural. But if that belief will not affect their eternal destination, then it is not worth bashing them over it. Will that belief affect their life here on earth? Yep. But a lot of the things we argue about don’t actually shift anyone’s path from heaven to hell, or vice versa. There is a place and time for theological debates, but they are far fewer than we think.

This is all coming from a girl who is very passionate about truth, a girl able to debate a number of points when she wants to. And I wouldn’t believe what I do unless I thought it was right. But I do not, by any means, consider myself to have the full corner on truth. None of us know the entire big picture. I think we’ll all be surprised by something when we get to heaven.

So instead of fighting so adamantly over things that don’t carry much eternal significance, can’t we set our differences aside and love each other? Can we be known by our love? A deep, forgiving, transcendent, no holds barred kind of love? Can we make this our legacy, the reputation we carry?

I’m not suggesting we throw away this denominational thing entirely. It’s a beautiful thing that we can all find a church that worships and serves God in a way we connect with. Each one is gifted for a specific purpose. But it would be amazing if we could find it in ourselves to not care so much about labels.

A couple years ago, a friend of mine invited me to a multi-denominational worship event. I don’t know how many people attended, but we filled a sports stadium. Together we lifted our voices in praise. We crossed borders and stood as one, worshiping God. It didn’t matter which churches we came from. It didn’t matter if we had differing opinions on peripheral matters. We all followed Christ. That was the important thing. We had all been drenched in God’s reckless love, and we all loved him back.

From Him the whole body [the church, in all its various parts], joined and knitted firmly together by what every joint supplies, when each part is working properly, causes the body to grow and mature, building itself up in unselfish love. (Ephesians 4:16, Amplified) And the same verse in the New Living Translation: He makes the whole body fit together perfectly. As each part does its own special work, it helps the other parts grow, so that the whole body is healthy and growing and full of love.

It is a great tactic of Satan to distract us with infighting, to get us quibbling over passages of Scripture, so that we forget to actually live out that very Scripture. Our purpose is to populate heaven! Instead we are obsessed with populating our corner with more like-minded individuals. Though oft-quoted, this still holds true: A house divided against itself cannot stand.

Over and over, the Bible reminds us that we are all parts of one body. Each part is vital and has a different function. But we are one.

I appeal to you, dear brothers and sisters, by the authority of our Lord Jesus Christ, to live in harmony with each other. Let there be no divisions in the church. Rather, be of one mind, united in thought and purpose. (1 Corinthians 1:10, NLT)

Always be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love. Make every effort to keep yourselves united in the Spirit, binding yourselves together with peace. For there is one body and one Spirit, just as you have been called to one glorious hope for the future. There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one God and Father, who is over all and in all and living through all. (Ephesians 4:2-6, NLT)

Our Sunday mornings may look different. One sits on a pew and sings hymns. Another stands in an auditorium and sings songs written yesterday. One may come dressed in jeans, another in their utmost best. Your church building might sport a steeple that’s been there for a century, or church might be held in a converted grocery store. Maybe you’re a part of half a dozen people that come together in someone’s home, or maybe your congregation numbers in the thousands. Does it matter?

As long as you follow Jesus, no. It doesn’t. We’re family. Let’s act like it.

Keep Reading

To the Perfectionists

Tracey Dyck 20 Comments

Dear Perfectionist,

I have something to tell you, and by extension, something to tell myself. You have many faces and many forms, and so I write this to:

  • the neat-freak who cannot stand a molecule of dust out of place
  • the perfectionist in disguise whose desk is in chaos but whose personal standards are sky high
  • the one who puts in countless hours in an effort to achieve the perfect ____ (fill in the blank: musical skill, writing abilities, sports performance, test scores, etc.)
  • the one who expects everyone else to hold the same high standards
  • the one who extends grace to everyone but themselves
  • and the one who’s given up because they’ve failed too many times

You are a slave. You are chained to an ideal, a cruel master impossible to please. Day after day you strive to reach perfection. Or maybe you don’t even call it that. Maybe in your mind, Perfect is known as Better. Whatever its name, you chase it relentlessly, but somehow it always eludes you.

You likely don’t chase it in every area of life. Maybe you seek it in performance, but you’re perfectly all right with a messy room. Maybe you seek it in your outer world–everything in its place–but less so in your inner world, where you give yourself room for mistakes. And quite likely it’s an even more intricate paradox than that–your bookshelf might be organized alphabetically but your closet looks like a tornado hit it. You may hold strictly to an academic standard, yet not so much in physical fitness. There are infinite combinations, but if this letter is to you, there is at least one area in which you are enslaved.

Can I tell you something? I’m a perfectionist in disguise. My room is sometimes a group of little contained messes, with semi-organized piles of papers and books and things that belong together in some abstract way that only makes sense to me.

I think it should be cleaner.

When I sit down to write, I’m mostly okay with clumsy sentences, scrambled plots, and misbehaving characters in a first draft.

But I think I should write more, or faster.

Do I chase a state of perfection? Maybe. I don’t know. But I do know I chase progress. Because progress means movement towards perfection, or if not that, betterment. If I wake up intending to get some good writing done, and I go to bed at night having written nothing because life got in the way, I don’t like it. If I look at an area of my life and see no growth, it bothers me. Am I growing spiritually? Am I progressing as a writer? Am I getting better at my job? Are my relationships doing well? If the answer is ever no, that must mean “try harder.”

Those are the chains I struggle to break. Yours may look different.

This slavery is sneaky. It’s not constant misery. Sometimes you do achieve something you’re happy with (at least somewhat), and so there’s a measure of success, of satisfaction. It’s a carrot dangling in front of your nose, a taste of the glory you’ll feel when you finally reach that perfection in full. But when you stumble, your own whip comes whistling down to tear your back.

You could have done better.
You should have done more.
You shouldn’t have said that.
You failed.

Bleeding, you drag yourself up and try again. The worst part about this enslavement is that most of the time, you’re not aware. You don’t realize you hold the whip; you don’t know you’re bleeding out. You have moments of self-awareness, but those usually end up in more lashes, because goodness knows you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. (And down comes the whip again.)

What drives you? Why do you so badly desire that perfection? Do you know?

Like so many other things, the answer is rooted in fear.

Fear of failure, of rejection, of not being loved. Because if you’re good enough, they’ll love you, right? If you press on and work harder, do better, they’ll accept you. You’ll have a place in the ranks. You’ll mean something. You’ll be worthy.

If you do better, God will love you.

Is that the lie you’ve believed? Because trust me, though your mind may balk and say, “I know that’s not true, I know God loves me no matter what,” your heart might tell a different story. Mine has. And trust me when I say that your heart can hold so tightly to that belief, that it thickens and tightens and wraps a chain around your neck. And for the longest time, I had no idea that iron grip was there.

Breaking those bonds takes a journey. It’s a process of discarding the old and knowing the truth that sets you free. I wish the English language had another word for know. The kind I mean isn’t with your head–it’s with your heart. You may mentally acknowledge that you are loved, but do you know it? Do you completely and utterly believe it, to the point that you act like it? Is that truth so rooted in you that any word to the contrary can’t penetrate your heart because you know how very wrong it is?

If you’ve never heard it before, or if you’ve heard it a thousand times with deaf ears, listen now.

You. Are. Loved.

Did you know that if you stopped trying, if you let it all go to pot and let your life fall into shambles, that fact would not change one iota? I know you can hardly wrap your brain around that idea, so try instead to wrap your heart around it. Shut your brain up for just a moment. If you never did another thing for God or for anyone else, He would still love you just as much as He does right now. Your value to Him would remain unchanged. Can you see that? Can you start to?

Once you’re grounded in love, perfection isn’t necessary. Instead, you can strive for something much better: excellence. Do the best you can with what you have, and leave it at that. Keep going, keep improving–to stop is to stagnate–but don’t ever attach the pursuit to your identity. Give yourself grace. God does.

With love from:
A Recovering Perfectionist A Person of Excellence

Keep Reading

What Are You Afraid Of?

Tracey Dyck 10 Comments
What are you afraid of?

[br]

I don’t mean heights or small spaces or spiders or the dark or creepy clowns or waking up to find the world is purple and your dog is actually a sentient alien spying on you.

[br]

What are you truly afraid of? What are your deepest fears? Maybe you don’t even realize it, but you’re terrified of rejection, of not being loved. Maybe you’re scared of following the same sad patterns as your father or mother. Perhaps the thought of failure chills you to the bone. Or you might be scared of never having enough, never being enough.

[br]

We all have fears like that. I do.
[br]
Many of us can relate to a fear of failure. Do you ever find that the more you struggle with that fear, the more you fail? And the more you fail, the more your mistakes reinforce those fears? You look to your next endeavor, and a voice inside whispers, “You really think you’ll make it? Look what happened last time. Set your goals a little lower. That way you won’t be so disappointed when you fall short—again.”

[br]

Or say you’re afraid of loneliness, of having no friends. That fear consumes you until you wonder if maybe you’re unlovable—who would want to be with someone like you? And the more you think it, the more you see it’s true. You have no real friends. You were right all along. And the fear-monster tightens its grip.

[br]

In anything, really—not just fears—don’t you find that the more you think something, the more you see it? And the more you see it, the more it reinforces those thoughts? And as those thoughts grow stronger, you see even more evidence of them in your life? It’s an endless cycle, but it doesn’t have to be a bad one.

[br]

Because faith works indiscriminately in the positive and the negative.

[br]

We can all agree that Job had it pretty rough, yes? His livestock and servants, his material wealth—gone, poof. His children—dead under the rubble of a destroyed house. He didn’t have anything left.
[br]
Now, I know that Satan shuffled up to God and obtained his permission to test Job (and I have far more questions about that than I have answers), but it seems that Job himself played a part in bringing about his own downfall.

[br]

“What I always feared has happened to me,” he said. “What I dreaded has come true.” (Job 3:25, NLT) What was he afraid of? The first chapter of Job tells us he daily made sacrifices to atone for his children, thinking that perhaps they’d sinned and cursed God in their hearts.

[br]

He was afraid of punishment. He was afraid of destruction.

[br]

And that is exactly what swept through his life.

[br]

What we believe—really, truly, deep down believe—we attract into our lives. A person who thinks of himself as a loser attracts a loser kind of life. He finds himself gravitating toward other losers, gets a second-rate job, and sees everything through a defeated mindset. A person who thinks of himself as a winner attracts an amazing life. He starts spending time with great people who are growing and successful and encouraging. He finds doors opening, and those that don’t open, he kicks down because he knows he can. He sees life through the eyes of a winner.

[br]

The more the loser looks around at his lackluster world, and the more he listens to his crab-bucket-mentality friends, the more he sees that, “Yep, this is just how life is. This is who I am, and I shouldn’t expect anything better.” The more he thinks that, the more his world will conform to be that.

[br]

The more the winner looks around at his marvelous world, and the more his positive crowd rubs off on him, the more he sees opportunity hidden in the obstacles. He realizes that life is beautiful, that he can, and that he’s meant for great things. The more those thoughts cement themselves in his heart, the more his world will conform to back them up.

[br]

Both people may have the exact same opportunity placed before them, but the former person will look at it and think, “Oh, that’s too much. I could never do that/be that/deal with that stress. I’m just not the person for that.” And he rejects the opportunity. The latter individual will nod and say, “Wow—that’s so much more than what I’m used to, but I can do it. I can grow and develop and go to the next level in life.” He’ll walk through that door and thrive.

[br]

“For as he thinks in his heart, so is he.” (Proverbs 23:7a, NKJV)

[br]
What are you afraid of? What do you think of yourself? (Those two questions are more closely related than you might think.) Those fears need to be dealt with, or else they hold the potential to kill you. Maybe not physically, but fear can draw into your life the very things you’re afraid of. Those things will destroy relationships, your thought life, and anything else they touch. Go to your Creator, lay those crippling chains at His feet, and discover His perfect love. It casts out all fear.
[br]
Afraid of rejection? God promises He’ll never leave you or forsake you. Afraid of repeating the mistakes of your parents? God says you are a new creation—the old has passed away and the new has come. Afraid of failing? God declares that you’re spotless before Him, and it has nothing to do with your successes or failures.

[br]

This love, this perfect, radiant, relentless love, drives out fear.

[br]

Knowing how loved you are gives rise to hope.

[br]

Hope of good things to come gives rise to faith.

[br]

And faith, the full confidence that what you hope for is here, now, whether or not you see it just yet . . . will draw in the physical evidence of that faith like iron to a magnet.

[br]

Fear and faith—both ask you to believe in what you cannot see.

[br]

Which will you listen to?

Keep Reading

Scandal of Grace

Tracey Dyck 10 Comments

Can you imagine? The God you worship has put skin on and walked among you. He has touched you, eaten with you, healed you, taught you, laughed with you, cried with you, lived with you. Now He shoulders a cross up a hill and dies for you.

Darkness falls.

Shattered, you stagger away from that hill of blood and death and suffering. Nothing will ever be the same again. The greatest love you’ve ever known is dead and gone. All is lost.

Days pass in a blur of numbness. You have no tears left.

But on the third day, light bursts forth. A tomb opens wide, and its bowels are empty. And look! There He stands—alive. How can this be?

Suddenly, words come rushing back, things He said and did that made little sense at the time, but now brim with color and meaning. The events fall into place and your blind eyes now see how everything has come together.

After centuries of trying and failing to keep the law, it is fulfilled. After years of distance, years of inadequacy, years of judgment . . . at last it is finished. One perfect sacrifice, undeserved, has turned everything around. The curtain is torn in two. No longer is that holy place of God reserved for the select priests. Now anyone can walk into His presence boldly.

Now you can.

Death’s reign is over, its power conquered. You weep from the sheer beauty of it all as His scarred hands pull you into an embrace. You never deserved this. You’ve spent your whole life trying to scrub away your filth, but Love has cleansed you, bought you with blood.

You should have bled out on that cross to atone for your
wrongs, and yet you didn’t. He did. Perfect, blameless, He died a
criminal’s death so you can walk free.

There are no words for this, only gratitude. You lean back and smile at Him through the tears because now, truly, nothing will ever be the same again.

Innocence slain. The guilty absolved. A curse broken.

This is a scandal of grace.

Grace, what have You done?

Murdered for me on that cross

Accused in absence of wrong

My sin washed away in Your love

Too much to make sense of it all

I know that Your love breaks my fall

This scandal of grace—You died in my place so my soul will live

—Scandal of Grace, Hillsong United

Keep Reading