I used to get anxious singing Amazing Grace.

It was all because of a couple of lines at the end of the second verse: “…how precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed.”  

They reminded me that I apparently lacked something every other faithful believer in Jesus Christ seemed able to share—that is, an explicit personal account of his spiritual conversion.  In other words, everyone who’d been “saved” seemed to be able to recall that experience at a specific place and point in time.

[What does it actually mean to be “saved?”  see: Different fruit, Same Good News.]

As a result, every time I heard the testimony of a brother describing the precise time he decided to follow Christ, I questioned the reality of my ever having actually made that same decision myself, since I couldn’t recall exactly when it was.

Every idea I could think of to fix the situation only seemed to deepen my feelings of inadequacy as a partaker of His divine nature.  I couldn’t bring myself to ask anybody if my faith in Christ was real, given its nebulous origin.  I was afraid of the answer.

So, I kept things to myself.

But even though I can’t remember that “…hour I first believed,” there was a moment in time I became convinced that it didn’t really matter.  And I think it’s worth mentioning here that I was never persuaded to that end because of an answered question.

In fact, I never needed to ask, because, by learning what Bible text actually does say, I was also able to determine what it doesn’t say.

[How did I learn what Bible text actually does say? see: Inductive Study? Sounds Like a Plan.]

That’s the remarkable thing about gaining knowledge.  Data isn’t just compiled, confidence is also increased.

And confidence is critical for me to develop as a disciple of Jesus Christ.  For how can I effectively wield the gifts God has granted me without it?   Or by what means does the hesitant man encourage his brother?

More importantly though, if I can’t secure enough confidence in my own ability to understand the what the Scriptures say, it’s highly unlikely I’ll possess the wisdom to discern who actually can.

It’s serious enough for someone else to challenge my faith with a baseless claim.

So why would I allow myself to do it?

Sometimes a word is dirty just by association.

A good example would be the term “sensualism,” a human condition precipitated by any kind of gratification to the senses—that is, by touch, sight, hearing, smell or taste.  The senses are a good thing, of course, having been created by God as part of the human makeup.

It’s just that they were never meant to heavily influence deliberated choices.

But don’t expect anyone to encourage you to discipline yourself against experiencing things sensually—unless it’s a dietitian.  The world revolves around the marketing of wanton pleasure on demand.  Anything sensual is good, and the more often, the better.

That must be why four different Biblical authors of the New Testament cautioned their readers against making provisions in their lives for sensuality.  Eight times, the word translated as “sensuality” was the Greek noun ἀσέλγεια [âsélgeia], referring to licentiousness, wantonness, sensuality, indecency, or vice.  Most of the uses of ἀσέλγεια were included as part of a list of sexually immoral practices.

On the other hand, everything sensual isn’t unclean for Jesus Christ’s disciples.  No lasting, intimate relationship can exist outside of the very necessary sensual realm of human sexuality that grows out of a legitimate covenantal marriage.  Nor can one absorb the beauty of a landscape, the voices of happy grandchildren, or the aroma of a pot luck dinner without the miracle of sensory awareness.

So, experiencing sensuality may or may not always qualify as sinful behavior.  But I can be sure that it’ll point me in that direction.

I simply cannot become mature living a lifestyle of unchecked sensual stimulation.  If I learn to engage every daily task or challenge using my senses rather than my rational faculties, it’s only a matter of time before I start choosing the path of least resistance.

Nor am I able to worship and experience the presence of the Lord exclusively through my senses.  Some congregations which claim to belong to Christ attempt to build and sustain membership by tapping in to the sensually triggered temperaments of visitors. This practice is utterly reprehensible and clearly distorts the intent of corporate Biblical worship. [see: 1Cor. 14]

Things that are sensual often invoke pleasure.  Pleasure is good.  But it cannot exist in constancy and continue to serve that purpose.

Sensualism isn’t the guy I want to hang out with all the time.  Nor is it the old friend I go see a lot to relive the good times.  It is, rather, that welcomed friend who knocks on my door from time to time.

But I’m never afraid to show him the door.

I hear this question raised too many times:

“Why do people who call themselves Christians rarely find the courage to act upon that conviction when they’re challenged on a personal level?”

One could argue, of course, that there’s more than one reason.  But, asking another question might easily explain why there’s usually just one reason.

For example, why will people who call themselves die-hard Kansas City Chiefs fans fight to the death to defend the reputation of a particular player or the team?  Because, aside from the money they spend on team paraphernalia and season tickets, it doesn’t cost them anything to do it.

That’s not to say passionate pursuits aren’t without emotional forfeiture from time to time, but the ones which could really cost us, we tend to avoid, and being a die-hard faithful disciple of Jesus Christ isn’t cheap.

Think about it.

Our congregations are stocked with principled, faithful members, many of which fearlessly defend unborn children, the Biblical institution of marriage and the authority of a moral system of governance.

However, embedded in these bastions of Christian fellowship are bargain-hunters looking for a discount on the price of inevitable conflict. They seek challenges to confirm their faith by responding solely to the charitable needs of the Body of Christ—good works which are indeed critical, but demand little expenditure of defensive, emotional capital.

But they don’t have to look far.  

The Great Deceiver sits among them in the pews, passing out the coupons. And he has the ability to convince them that any formidable resistance in the face of evil is a high-risk enterprise, and that simply being a nice guy and doing nice things is all that’s necessary to do the Lord’s work effectively.

Sin has the power to persuade me to stay in my comfort zone.  And I can testify from personal experience that an immature disciple is an easy target for this type of emotional manipulation. Hence, the otherwise virile man is rendered silent in the face of evil.  But that doesn’t mean he’s capitulated to its ideology.

Oh no, he really does hate it. He’s just decided that the price of acting to stop its advance is too costly.

And, on the basis of that high expense, he somehow justifies his decision, even though  “…any decision Jesus Christ’s disciple makes not to stand up in the face of evil is an open denial of our Lord’s authority to accomplish an effective line of resistance through the actions of that disciple.”  

[Read how this is happening today:  Are We a Body of Cowards?]

The reality is that, even though He could accomplish anything by His own devices, God clearly uses men and women He’s called to help prosecute and defend His divine plan for the ages.  [see: Titus 2:11-14]

So, I have to ask myself:  If I consider His expectations for me not to be worth the cost, I wonder how He‘s gonna’ consider mine when He returns?

“Silence in the face of evil is itself evil.  God will not hold us guiltless.  Not to speak is to speak.  Not to act is to act.”  —Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Some would argue that adoption isn’t what it used to be.

Even though the legal process behind it has remained somewhat unchanged over the past two millennia, most decisions to assume custody of another person have evolved from being grounded in a spirit of pragmatism to an act of selfless charity.

In the First Century, for example, it wasn’t uncommon for an adult male Roman citizen to either seek or readily accept legal adoption by a wealthy guardian who sought a qualified, responsible heir to protect and increase his fortune and lineage.

In other words, you were more likely to get adopted because you were needed rather than because you were in need.

I think this is an unusual practice for many to imagine today, perhaps seeming a little detached from what we’re accustomed to as being a proper motive.   But, consider that even the Biblical authors’ references to adoption reflected a legitimate human aspiration—that is, to become an heir to wealth, and then, to actually receive it.

[Why is it important to understand what an heir is?  see: Birthright Through Redemption]

In his letter to “all who [were] beloved of God in Rome, called as saints,” the apostle Paul exhorted the reader to fully appropriate the mindset of a lawfully adopted heir:

“For all who are being led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God.  For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, “Abba! Father!”  [Rom. 8:14-15]  [my emphasis]

If I’m being led by the Spirit, I’m able to recognize the Spirit who freed me from the slave market of sin.  That Spirit is the source of my joyful spirit [of adoption] which also anticipates the confirmation of my inheritance at the redemption of my body in a future resurrection!  [see: Rom. 8:23]

In order for me to truly grasp the significance of inheriting what God has to offer, it’s critical for me to be able to remain steadfast in obedience to the commands of Jesus Christ.

So, things certainly aren’t like they used to be.  The reasons for adopting have varied over the centuries, being driven by everything from sincere empathy to rabid greed.  But a true paradigm of its function has always been made visible by the original Designer.

And it has always revolved around the need to either have—or share what is priceless.

That’s why we long to cry out “Abba! Father!”

I’ve got enough to be concerned about without trying to manipulate the climate.

As part of the human race, I’m obligated to abide in the Lord’s directive given to the first man Adam—that is, to “…be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it, and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth.” [Gen. 1:28]  [my emphasis]

But if I consider myself to be a faithful disciple of Jesus Christ, I should be able to recognize the difference between acting as a good steward of the earth and trying to control it. Because to think that I’m actually able to alter the progression of the Created order is the epitome of arrogance.  

Not only that, ungodly pride hones the cutting edges of unbelief, allowing them to slice deep into the fibrous bonds which sustain Christian fellowship.  And when these tendons of His Body begin to unravel, its members become vulnerable to a host of other worldly fables.

The result is chaos in a Body whose purpose is to serve Its Head and one another by remaining steadfast and confident in the Lord’s promises, and to be a beacon of light to the fearful, dithering masses as well.

So where does the Bible confirm the durability of seasons and climate?

How about the Lord’s promise to Noah immediately after the flood waters receded:

“While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.” [Gen. 8:22]  [my emphasis]

This isn’t a verse that can be easily extracted from its proper context.  It was a Divine proclamation which coincided [somewhat] with the covenant God made between Noah and all successive generations that water never again shall “become a flood to destroy all flesh.”

If I believe what the Lord says about not flooding the Earth again, is it too much to include His guarantee of seasonal consistency too, or do I need more rainbows to convince me?

l’d say we either believe what the Scriptures teach, or we don’t.  It’s impossible to pick and choose.

C.S. Lewis once made a profound observation exposing the hypocrisy of Biblical cherry picking.  He noted that one cannot simply acknowledge Christ’s teaching as true and useful yet deny His Deity at the same time.

The reason is obvious.  Jesus said He and the Father were One—i.e., He was God.  If He was God, nothing but truth could come out of His mouth.  If he wasn’t God, he was a lunatic, because He said he was God.  How can I believe anything a lunatic says?

It defies logic to have it both ways.

There’s plenty of empirical evidence to suggest that the Earth’s climate is cyclical to some degree.  Temperature and weather patterns have been documented to fluctuate—sometimes even drastically over time.

But the Lord has promised me cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night as long as the earth remains.

And the last time I looked, it’s still here.