Imagine with me for a second that you are standing at the base of a large mountain, looking up. Now, we may look up at the top of the mountain and see the plateau and think, “Gosh, it would be nice to live up there.” But, because we view the climb as being too hard, all we do is wish, but never act.
The above analogy is an example of how we as a Christians view our love for God, which in turn affects our purity. So many Christians try their hardest to achieve purity: putting filters on their computers, setting up accountability partners, etc. These are all good things to do, but in and of themselves they are worthless when it comes to battling the temptations Satan throws at us. In fact, the key, missing ingredient in our battle for purity is that we don’t love or strive to love God as much as he loves us!!
Consider a thermostat and a thermometer. Both are similar in that they deal with temperature, but after that they are very different. A thermometer merely records and reflects the current temperature, with no ability to change the hotness or coolness of the room, while a thermostat can adjust accordingly to the current temperature.
Many Christians in today’s world, especially in America, are thermometers when it comes to the world. They merely reflect how others’ around them are living, yet when they do this, they are actually living for the world and not for Christ, who calls us to “be ye transformed, by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God” (Romans 12:2).
When we choose to become like a thermostat, to be transformed, our minds must be renewed to the point that we strive to love Christ DAILY as much as HE LOVES US!!! But much like that figure at the bottom of the mountain, we view it as being too tough and a huge hassle to try to obtain. It IS a huge calling to attempt, but if we are constantly in the word and in prayer, and we allow the Holy Spirit to work with us, IT IS POSSIBLE!!!!!!!
So I ask you…are you standing at the bottom of the mountain? And if you are, are you willing to sacrifice everything you have to reach the top? Or are you complacent to the point where you don’t mind being a thermometer?
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Thursday, October 9, 2008
The Day Everything Changed
After the elder finished speaking, everyone was dismissed and began to file out of the assembly room. Yet there was not the usual chatter between friends and families as they made their way out, and I am sure that as people passed by the last pew, they probably cast a glance in the direction of the lone, solitude figure who they thought they knew so well…but I didn’t see them, for I was too ashamed to look up.
It was December 12, 2007, and I had just been excommunicated from the Apostolic Christian Church, losing my membership and being put on the “ban,” which means I could have no fellowship with the church body for a minimum of six weeks.
Sitting there in the back pew, with my head down so no one could see the tears in my eyes, the same thought kept running through my head like a broken record:
“How did I end up here?”
I mean, of course I knew why I had been excommunicated. In a span of five months, I had allowed myself to give in to the desires of my flesh, slowly falling into a life filled with pleasure, recklessness, and a desire to please myself.
No, it was the how that plagued my thoughts. I had grown up in a solid Christian home, had known what was commanded of me by God, and just that past April had been baptized into the church.
But somewhere along the line, I slipped, and in the process, I lost the two things that I suddenly realized meant the most to me: my relationship with Christ and the fellowship with the most supportive, loving people of God I had ever known. It was at that moment that I decided I wanted to change, that I decided to give myself back to Christ, and to flee the depths of sin that I had fallen into.
So there I sat, feeling ashamed of myself, not wanting to look anyone in the eye, for fear of what I might see in their eyes. Disappointment? Disgust? A look that said, “Well, there is another one not originally from church that fell away”?
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I braved a glance up.
There stood Ted Pfister, a 73 year-old man whom I had gotten to know the last two years since I started attending the AC church. There were tears trickling down his cheek as he looked down at me, his eyes not filled with disappointment or disgust, but with sorrow. I could tell he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t get the words out, as if he wanted it to be just right.
Finally, he said, “I…love you Jon. I don’t care what you did, but I will never stop loving you, and more importantly, God will never stop loving you.”
I clung to those words for the next six weeks…the hardest six weeks of my life. I was allowed to attend church, but I had to sit in the balcony and wasn’t allowed to eat with everyone downstairs during the lunch hour. Never in my life had I ever felt so alone, so isolated. But I knew in my heart that I deserved it, and that this severe punishment was for my benefit.
However, I was not entirely alone for these six weeks. A close knit of family members and friends stood by my side throughout this time, and with their support and guidance I began the slow process of renewing my mind and being transformed into the character I knew God wanted me to be. The ordeal also brought me and my parents closer together, as all three of us leaned on each other for support and encouragement. My parents do not attend the AC church, so at first they were really scared for me, and wanted me to leave. But I told them that I couldn't, because God placed me in this church for a reason, and even though I may have fallen off his path for me, His plan is still at work in my life. Although they did not understand why I was being put through this and how I could take it, they nevertheless continued to show me love and support throughout.
But it was actually my friends from church whose love and support made all the difference. They could have judged me, turned their backs on me, chalk me up as finished…but they didn’t. They continued to stand by my side and let me know they were there for me, praying for me. Despite the fact that I had broken my commitment to not only the church, but God as well, they let me know that they believed I could turn my life around, and if it weren’t for them, I probably wouldn’t have.
It’s now six weeks since that fateful December night, and I am about to enter the house of Mark and Shelly Reinhard’s to attend my first young group hymn singing since I was excommunicated. The ban is to be lifted on Wednesday, but our elder told me I was allowed to start attending young group events again.
As I began to walk towards the garage, where I could hear the beautiful harmony of Christian brothers and sisters singing a Capella, my heart began to pound at the rate of snare drum. I walked into the room, and immediately felt everyone’s eyes on me. I was about ready to make a run for it, when my best friend, Bill Fraughier, pulled me along with him to two empty chairs. After I sat down, I looked around and saw many people looking at me…and smiling. It was in that instant that I realized I was where I belong.
It was December 12, 2007, and I had just been excommunicated from the Apostolic Christian Church, losing my membership and being put on the “ban,” which means I could have no fellowship with the church body for a minimum of six weeks.
Sitting there in the back pew, with my head down so no one could see the tears in my eyes, the same thought kept running through my head like a broken record:
“How did I end up here?”
I mean, of course I knew why I had been excommunicated. In a span of five months, I had allowed myself to give in to the desires of my flesh, slowly falling into a life filled with pleasure, recklessness, and a desire to please myself.
No, it was the how that plagued my thoughts. I had grown up in a solid Christian home, had known what was commanded of me by God, and just that past April had been baptized into the church.
But somewhere along the line, I slipped, and in the process, I lost the two things that I suddenly realized meant the most to me: my relationship with Christ and the fellowship with the most supportive, loving people of God I had ever known. It was at that moment that I decided I wanted to change, that I decided to give myself back to Christ, and to flee the depths of sin that I had fallen into.
So there I sat, feeling ashamed of myself, not wanting to look anyone in the eye, for fear of what I might see in their eyes. Disappointment? Disgust? A look that said, “Well, there is another one not originally from church that fell away”?
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I braved a glance up.
There stood Ted Pfister, a 73 year-old man whom I had gotten to know the last two years since I started attending the AC church. There were tears trickling down his cheek as he looked down at me, his eyes not filled with disappointment or disgust, but with sorrow. I could tell he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t get the words out, as if he wanted it to be just right.
Finally, he said, “I…love you Jon. I don’t care what you did, but I will never stop loving you, and more importantly, God will never stop loving you.”
I clung to those words for the next six weeks…the hardest six weeks of my life. I was allowed to attend church, but I had to sit in the balcony and wasn’t allowed to eat with everyone downstairs during the lunch hour. Never in my life had I ever felt so alone, so isolated. But I knew in my heart that I deserved it, and that this severe punishment was for my benefit.
However, I was not entirely alone for these six weeks. A close knit of family members and friends stood by my side throughout this time, and with their support and guidance I began the slow process of renewing my mind and being transformed into the character I knew God wanted me to be. The ordeal also brought me and my parents closer together, as all three of us leaned on each other for support and encouragement. My parents do not attend the AC church, so at first they were really scared for me, and wanted me to leave. But I told them that I couldn't, because God placed me in this church for a reason, and even though I may have fallen off his path for me, His plan is still at work in my life. Although they did not understand why I was being put through this and how I could take it, they nevertheless continued to show me love and support throughout.
But it was actually my friends from church whose love and support made all the difference. They could have judged me, turned their backs on me, chalk me up as finished…but they didn’t. They continued to stand by my side and let me know they were there for me, praying for me. Despite the fact that I had broken my commitment to not only the church, but God as well, they let me know that they believed I could turn my life around, and if it weren’t for them, I probably wouldn’t have.
It’s now six weeks since that fateful December night, and I am about to enter the house of Mark and Shelly Reinhard’s to attend my first young group hymn singing since I was excommunicated. The ban is to be lifted on Wednesday, but our elder told me I was allowed to start attending young group events again.
As I began to walk towards the garage, where I could hear the beautiful harmony of Christian brothers and sisters singing a Capella, my heart began to pound at the rate of snare drum. I walked into the room, and immediately felt everyone’s eyes on me. I was about ready to make a run for it, when my best friend, Bill Fraughier, pulled me along with him to two empty chairs. After I sat down, I looked around and saw many people looking at me…and smiling. It was in that instant that I realized I was where I belong.
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