Life + ministry

It’s necessary, but it’s not easy. Humans were made for physical presence, so it’s natural to feel disordered when this presence is taken from us. The thought of social distancing brings a sense of loss—we worry we’ll lose spiritual vitality, stabilizing routines, interpersonal relationships. It’s scary.

What comes to mind when you think of church discipline? If you’re like me, you immediately go to high-profile cases that necessitate robust measures from church leaders. Church discipline may involve the whole church and its leaders. But church discipline actually starts, and by God’s grace ends, with you and me.

“The assumptions are really what kill. It’s almost always assumed singles are either dying of loneliness or burning with lust.” Nodding, eager to hear more, I thought back on similar accounts from singles in different churches. By trying to listen and learn from singles—young, old, male, female, divorced, widowed, working, students, seminarians—my goal was to get the inside scoop on their experience as singles in the church.

There I was again, lying in a hospital bed hooked to an IV receiving my usual “cocktail” for migraines. Despite years of treatment, I was still having episodes that landed me in the ER. This could have been the opportune moment to hit play on my usual “woe is me” self-talk. But that night something changed. I chose to preach the gospel to myself instead.

“God saves sinners.” That’s the truest sentence I know. I believe it’s the truest sentence in all the world. And that’s really, really good news for a sinner like me. Someone recently asked what I thought I’d be doing now, at thirty, if Jesus hadn’t saved me. That’s easy, whatever (old Whitney would add “the hell”) I wanted. Even if it meant my own destruction.

Lately my self-talk has been more subtle than usual, but no less harmful. During an ongoing season of being stretched in about every imaginable way, I’ve caught myself offhandedly thinking, “Don’t you wish you chose an easier path?” Or, “Why can’t you just have a normal, more comfortable life?” Undoubtedly, in these moments, I’m believing the lie that I can be a follower of Christ and a friend of the world.

A pastor once told me that in his twenties he couldn’t fathom how his friends fell into moral failure or quit vocational ministry. But now, in his fifties, he understands the possibility of both. I didn’t understand him then. I do now. Pressing forward in faith when you’re getting slammed with trial or temptation is exhausting. The truth is, life is exhausting.

For centuries Psalm 22:1-2 has shaped the grief and bewilderment God’s people have felt in their darkest hour. The Psalmist expresses anguish only known to the innocent sufferer who feels abandoned by everyone including God:

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest.”

After two years of focused theological study I realized my soul needed a good story. It’s not that I don’t love reading theology, but during this season I wanted something different to stir my heart. I knew any old story wouldn’t work. No, it was time for a fairy tale.

Right now I’m tempted to believe that God is holding out on me. There. I said it. I planned to postpone writing this until I could speak about my unbelief in the past tense. Like most of you I’m more comfortable sharing my struggles when I can see them in the rearview mirror (with a lesson in my back pocket of course).