Dear Beloved

My Dearest Beloved,

I am writing because I cannot look at you without seeing a searing pain just below the surface of your hollow eyes. When I listen to you, your words seem tainted with bitterness and your heart seems distant not just from me, but everyone. You are living in the shadow of the very life promised to you and though you are not content, you live as if you have accepted this as your lot in life, that you deserve nothing better, that this life can offer you nothing more. My prayers for you contain few words; instead I fall prostrate, begging the Lord through heavy sobs to rescue you, to reveal Himself to you, to speak to you. When I think of you throughout my day, I am paralyzed with a bottomless sadness for you. I am grieved, so deeply grieved for you.

I have been in the dark, where I cannot see, hear, or feel God. I have felt as if I had to make my own way through this life and have bent over backwards attempting to find happiness and fulfillment through the ways of this world: work, education, friends, and hobbies.  I would seemingly make headway, only to be setback by an unforeseen circumstance.  Life promises contentment if we would just do…. however, it was always just out of reach, which caused me to keep striving and continue to put off everyone and anything that got in my way. I came to a place where I didn’t need anyone, believing that people will always let me down. I became self-sufficient and though I didn’t realize it at the time, I was seeking out a life that was sad and lonely. I see this in you as well.

God got my attention many years ago, thankfully. Nothing inspires prayer and draws us closer to the Lord like adversity, sorrow, and humiliation. I got to the place where I realized I can do nothing without God (Phil. 4:13). I desperately needed Him, His love, and mercy and with that, my self-sufficiency went out the window.  So as I share with you some things I have learned along the way, I want you to know I have had to do most things twice---at least---the wrong way and then the right way. I don’t write from a place of being arrogance, but from a humbled place--- a place that wants so much for you to embrace the beautiful gift that is yours for the taking. I write from a place of deep seeded love and respect for you. I write as your friend.

First, I want to remind you that living for God is not going to feel like a mountain-top experience all the time. For some reason, we have come to believe that our faith, our walk with Christ, is supposed to be more than it currently is, that it should resemble a favorite author, pastor, or friend  whose faith just seems to come easier for them---their whole lives ooze intimacy with Christ. Don’t get me wrong, we will have seasons of incredible intimacy with Him where we hear, feel, and see Him and crave being in His presence, but true faith is lived when we don’t hear, feel, or see Him. Do we still believe He is with us when we don’t have something to hang our hat on; when darkness surrounds us and God seems to be nowhere in sight? Do we abandon Him when faith looks different or feels different than what we expected? Listen carefully, “Human feelings cannot touch him and human thoughts cannot measure Him. Our personal experiences cannot heighten the certainty of His presence anymore than the absence of experience can lessen it” (Brennan Manning). Do you get it? Just because we don’t hear, see, or feel His presence does not mean that He is not present, no more than when we do hear, see, and feel His presence.  God is with us. He will never leave us. He will never forsake us (Duet. 31:8). He is never out of reach.

I cannot stress the importance of abiding in Christ. Abiding is a fancy word that means “to remain”.  Like I mentioned, it is easy to walk away from Christ when we don’t experience Him like we desire or when the world feels as if it is caving in on us. As children, we feared the dark. It caused us to feel alone and unsafe. It caused our imaginations to spin wildly out of control; and if you were anything like I was, you concocted an escape route or practice Kung Fu fighting skills while laying awake into the wee hours of the morning, only to be awaken to the light and the security that we craved. I had nothing to fret and lose sleep over.  Everyone experiences dark seasons of life, where we cannot see beyond today, where we feel alone, unfulfilled, as if our joy has been stripped away from us, and we cannot look up no matter our efforts. It’s a painful season. It is also necessary in the Christian’s life because it helps us to reexamine our hearts and motives. In short, the darkness is a refining process. “He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver; He will purify” (Malachi 3:3) Like silver, we are often put through the fire, or darkness in this case, so that our impurities will rise to the top to be skimmed off. With time and abiding in Him through the darkness, our Savior will more readily see His reflection in our lives. Refining (sanctification) is a life-long process. An interesting fact is that silver means redemption. I think of redemption as rescuing which does not mean escaping the darkness, but seeing the light while in the dark.

As Christians, we are “in this world, but not of this world”. If you are like me even a little, this is a hard concept to grasp and even harder to live out. What this essentially means is that our true home is in heaven with Christ. Our lives on Earth are fleeting and when we die the things we have worked so hard to accumulate collect dust and eventually end up in the trash.  We are to live with the understanding and determination that life’s meaning for the Christian is to show Christ’s perfect, non-judgmental, humble, grace-filled love through our interactions and pure efforts to others.  I grew up in a legalistic church. Rules were everything, which made Christianity pretty easy. However, as I grew older, I explored my faith and relationship with Christ more and realized rules do not make anyone holy--- and honestly, make us the god of our lives. In my ignorant youth, I believed that surrounding myself with other Christians was the best thing I could do for myself and after awhile I did not have a single unbelieving friend and all my social outlets were in the Christian community. It took several years for me to realize how incredibly unhealthy this was, how arrogant I must have appeared to anyone outside the Christian faith, how unchallenged I was in my walk with Christ because I was living life and serving shoulder to shoulder with people I genuinely loved and respected.  Jesus reminds us in Luke (6:32-35), “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those that love them….But love your enemies, do good unto them, and lend to them without expecting anything back. Then your reward will be great and you will be children of the Most High, because He is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked”.

I have often used the example of the watery expanding rings left from a stone thrown into a river to refer to our lives. Beloved, the innermost ring must be comprised of like-minded people, people who will speak truth to us even when it is hard, people who will support, love, and encourage us to grow outside our comfort zone, people who will always point us back to Christ when we veer off the path, but also who will remain by our side when our seasons of darkness seem to swallow us whole. The outer rings are where our faith is tested more intensely because that is where the rest of the world dwells, where the light in the darkness is a mirage, promising that if they do this or get that---that they will finally feel fulfilled and live a life of happiness and peace. It is dangerous and if our inner circle is not intact, we can easily be swayed and fall prey to the ways of the world.

People, Christians and non-Christians alike, often believe that the only way to know Christ is through prayer, listening to sermons, attending church, and Bible Study.  What a beautiful checklist we have created in hopes to be holy! I balk at that--- really! I am not saying these are not incredibly important activities and won’t aid us to knowing about the Lord, but there is an infinite difference between knowing about God and knowing God. To know Him is to honestly, without abandon, trust Him;  to live in complete surrender to Him--- allowing Him to see us, all of us---the broken parts, the bitter parts, the sinful parts---all of us--- and believe that He loves us in spite of those things and so much so that He will not allow us to remain in this place. Complete surrendering is not having God and…anything else. It is the letting go of what you can do for yourself and relying on God to take care of whatever needs to be done--- and in His perfect timing. It is easy to get caught up in the music we sing, or the words we read, or even the prayers that we pray---again, these are beautiful, important, and potentially life-giving activities, but if they become our God or replace the relationship with Christ that we seek, we have missed the very function of these activities, the very One they are meant to point us to. Our relationship with Christ is a personal, up close, intimate one marinated in these activities, but not the activities themselves.

Another thing I must share with you as you reach for the Master’s hand as you crawl out of darkness is the gift of forgiveness---a gift you have unknowingly already received as well as the gift you must live from in order to dwell in the freedom God so desperately desires for you. Forgiveness is essentially living from the very heart of Christ. Man’s nature is to wound. God’s nature is to save. In all honesty, this has been one of my biggest lessons in life. Living in resentment towards those who have wronged us intentionally or unintentionally only hurts ourselves. Often times, the person who hurt us is unaware of the grudge we hold against them. It eats at us day and night, devouring the very part of us that God desires to grow in us: His perfect peace and grace for others. Our struggle to forgive or the resentments we clutch onto reveals how much we trust God to take care of the injustices done against us. There is an incredible freedom we feel when we forgive those who have wronged us. Don’t misunderstand forgiveness. It is not saying that what someone did against us is OK. It is saying, “I am no longer holding on to this. I will not allow my mind to dwell on this or allow it to rob my life a moment longer of the peace waiting for me on the other side”. Forgiveness is the signature of Jesus in our lives. We have been forgiven of so, so much.

There is so much more I could share. I fear I have overwhelmed you already. Please know Beloved, I want nothing more for you than for you to choose the less traveled road, a road that is not easy by any means. An authentic Christian life is, as Brennan Manning (once again) says, “a summons to strip ourselves of earthly cares and worldly wisdom, all desire for human praise, greediness for any kind of comfort, a readiness to stand up and be counted as peacemakers in a violent world; a willingness to let go of those pretenses that would have us believe we aren’t really worldly. Even the last rag we cling to—the self-flattery that suggests we are humble when we disclaim any resemblance to Jesus Christ---even that rag has to go when we stand face-to-face with the crucified Son of God”. This road, Beloved is a road that fills the deep longing you have been trying to fill with things of this world for so many years. It is a path that will challenge you at times, as it is not a popular path and it is often misunderstood.  It is also a path that often leads to persecution, but it is without a doubt, the path where you meet Jesus face to face, where you will discover what it really means to know Him, what it means to live out of your unfathomable love for Him at all costs, and to know the freedom you have only dreamt about.

I am eager to walk this humble journey along side you, my dear one. I am praying ceaselessly for you, knowing God hears my prayers and loves you more than I ever possibly could. I am here for you and will keep sharing what I have learned and keep pointing you back to Christ, but I know I am not the one who will change your heart, so I release my grip on you and eagerly watch as the Lord works in and through your life.

I love you so very much,
K

Loved

One of the last letters I received from my Dad

I grew up on dairy farm in a small town in western Washington. It was a wholesome, traditional, and humble upbringing where my brother, sister, and I learned to work hard, put others’ needs above our own, rally with the community, and worship together on Sunday mornings sitting between my mom and dad. If scenes from Little House on the Prairie come to mind, you’d be on the right track. I loved my childhood and am eternally grateful for the sweet gift of it. I am sure I have romanticized it to some degree, for even the hardships now seem like the bow on top of an already beautiful package.  One of the things I treasure most from my childhood is the heart-to-heart conversations I had with my dad. I won’t pretend to remember the substance of them, but I remember the heart in which they took place and where they led me.

Many, many conversations with my dad took place in the milking parlor. I still remember what it felt like to sit on the wet, cold cement step watching my dad as he worked. It was not uncommon to see him tear up as he shared whatever he was struggling with or giggling like a little boy over the joke I heard at school that day. His battered hands working hurriedly while the oldies played statically on an old beat up radio in the background; as we would talk about everything and nothing.   I love that we had to yell over the machines at times while at other times, we didn’t need words at all. Just being together was enough. My dad was approachable. My dad was present.

As I grew older, a lot of our conversations took place sitting on the back fence looking out over the pasture while the sun slipped too quickly below the horizon. Dad often would say, “Look at the masterpiece God painted for us tonight”. I loved unwrapping presents like sunsets and sparkling stars and even the aroma of cow pies with my dad. Through his actions, I learned to never take these things for granted, to see them as gifts to be unwrapped slowly, to be treasured, to see God in them and humbly, yet courageously, worship Him. I loved listening to my dad pray.  I loved the feel of his oversized, calloused hand in mine, and the little squeeze he would give me just before he said, "Amen". My dad was humble. My dad was filled with immense gratitude.

I’m a ponder; like my Dad was. I’d like to say I learned it from him, but I think God just wired me like that and used my Dad to encourage me to put voice to my thoughts and questions. I love that my dad wasn’t perfect and didn’t know all the answers. I loved that he lived transparently, passionately, and unapologetically for his beliefs. I loved that he encouraged me to openly wrestle with my faith and not readily accept whatever I heard in church or what he and my mom taught us kids as truth---I can still hear him, “Look it up…that’s how you learn, that’s how you grow, that’s how you discover God for yourself”.  My dad was transparent. My dad was student and teacher.

As I grew older and eventually moved out and married, my Dad often called to ask what I was reading, what I was learning and then eagerly shared what he was learning or wrestling with. I miss those talks more and more with each year that he has been gone.  My dad was my friend.

Shortly after my dad passed away I found a letter he had written me several years prior. I did not like this letter at all and considered throwing it away because it pointed out things about myself I wish had not been true. I saved it because…because I guess I knew there was more value to it than just a reminder of his bubbly handwriting and the odd fact that it smelled like ketchup. His letter began, “I have been burdened for you” and ended with “I am praying over you, Karyn. You have all the Jesus you need, snuggle into Him and rest in His arms”. My Dad was not afraid to speak truth even when it was hard for him. My dad was bold. My dad was an encourager.

My dad sure loved me. I sure love him.

My dad has been gone for four years now. And when I get to talk about him, never once do I define him by what he did for a living, how much money he earned, where he lived, the size of his house, kind of car he drove, or any other material possession he acquired. My dad lived a present, humble life that pointed everyone he met to Christ. He encouraged others by being transparent, vulnerable, and openly wrestled with things he did not understand. He loved others with the love of Christ. We are called to do the same.

Fragile Faith

Years ago I came across words written so prophetically tender to my soul that ever since, I have quoted and re-quoted John Piper’s affirmation as well as have given the Lord complete access to my life in hopes that He would gently guide and refine me  into authentically living out these words.

The words?

“God is most glorified in us, when we are most satisfied in Him” (John Piper, Desiring God).

It is my deepest desire to glorify the Lord. I want nothing more than when I see Him face to face for Him to welcome me into the folds of His wings and give me the biggest papa bear hug---so big that I am lifted a foot off the ground. And as He sets me back on the ground, He looks me square in the eye, tears of joy streaming down His cheeks as He whispers, “Well done, my Beloved. There is no doubt that you have loved me, lived for me, and served others in my name. You gave everything you had until there was nothing left, but Me and then you kept going in faith”.  I am not perfect by any means, but I live confidently in Him, sometimes even radically (which for this introvert is really living in faith!) as I attempt to live with my eyes fixed on Him. I truly am satisfied in Him.

I am satisfied in Him because I trust Him implicitly. The Bible is filled with countless promises and He has fulfilled every one of them in my life. He has lead me through some earth shattering circumstances, been the light in the midst of my darkest hours. He has spoken to my tender heart and given me strength to endure hardships while conquering others. He has been the source of exuberant joy and given me peace that surpasses all understanding. He has given me His eyes to see the world as He does and have a compassion and empathy that are not my own for the brokenhearted, the unlovely, and even the crude. I see Him when I look for Him. I feel Him when I quiet my soul. I hear Him when I read His Word. I am completely satisfied in Him.

However, I know many people are not satisfied in Him, don’t trust Him, don’t feel His presence. I know people who blame Him for the injustice in the world and therefore believe He is not a loving God. It makes sense that people who are not Christ-followers feel this way because they only know of Christ, not Christ Himself. However, we don’t expect Christians to feel this way.

My oldest daughter wrestles with her faith. Though she believes in God, has asked Him to be the Lord of her life, attends church regularly, prays, and reads her Bible, she struggles with this being enough. As we were talking about this one night last week, she breaks down, sobbing---the kind of sobbing that swells from the inside out, staining her face with hot tears that reveal an inner wrestling that she cannot make sense of. Between heavy sobs, she says, “I’m not like you, Mom. I don’t feel God. I look at you and you ooze this love for Him, you see Him, you hear His voice, you feel Him, and I, I just don’t”.  If I am being completely honest, my initial reaction was surprise. Not feel God? How can that be? How easy it is for us to assume that others think and feel the way we do; that God speaks and guides others in the same way He does us. The Lord was quick to help me catch my tongue and guard my expression so as not to add insult to her already hemorrhaging heart. I know she is alone in her wrestling.

Christianity is not mimicking someone else’s walk with Christ, though we may be inspired by them. Occasionally, we find ourselves in the midst of those whose faith seems to come easier to them. They seem to encapsulate humility while at the same time a confidence which we can only dream of encompassing. They know the Bible like the back of their hand and pray so eloquently---so poetically, that we, in comparison, sound like a blubbering fool.  We have witnessed others be moved by the Spirit because they not only hear His voice, they trust Him. They know Him, really know Him and unapologetically live out of this deep, deep love they have for Him. We all know someone like that. And although my daughter does not say she desires her faith to look like mine, she believes that faith must look and feel a certain way.  In my daughter’s frustration, she asks, “So faith is just believing, not anything else? No feelings, no nothing?”

Searching my mind and silently asking the Lord to guide this conversation, I reminded her that our faith is not based on feelings, but on the decision to trust that God’s Word is truth, that He died for us, paying the penalty for our sin because He loves us that much. I reminded her that her checklist (reading her Bible, attending church, praying…) can easily become a religious act---where we live by the letter of the law rather than the spirit of the law. Christianity is about relationship, not rules.  Reading the Bible, praying, and attending church are tools to build and maintain an intimate relationship with Christ---which is where that immeasurable love she desperately desires springs forth for Christ.  A lot of people follow a similar checklist, doing all the “right” things and never learn to follow Jesus---never fall in love with Him. It’s easy to follow a plan, but not so easy to fully relinquish ourselves to God’s authority. If we have our eyes on ourselves, our accomplishments, our goals while marking off our checklist, how can we be sold out for Christ? I think this is where the root of many of our struggles lie.

My daughter listens attentively and nods her head in understanding, but still looks for something more. We have become a world of quick fixes and instant gratification. We gravitate toward books and magazines that promise step by step solutions to "live our best life now". We don’t want to think. We don’t necessarily even want to do the work. We just want someone to tell us what to do and how to think and hope we get the results we desire. A personal relationship with Christ cannot be replicated or manufactured. It’s personal. My relationship with Christ is different from your relationship with Christ.

So, I share with my Delightful that the mark of a Christian is not in how much she prays, reads the Bible, shares her faith with others, her church attendance record, or even how well she follows the ten commandments. Rather, the mark of a Christian is how well we love one another.  As Christians, our intimacy with Christ manifests itself by how we respond to others in need. I cannot help but to think of James 1:27, “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after the orphans and the widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world”. As we grow in intimacy with Christ, our heartbeat grows in sync with His and we see the world in a whole new perspective. It is a perspective that begs for us to show love in an array of ways (using our gifts, talents, and passions that the Lord has equipped us with) to all those around us.

I tell my daughter that she has all the tools she needs, but perhaps she has misunderstood the tools, how to use them, as well as how live them out.  So, in an attempt to encourage her, I do my best to define the tools and their purpose.  I start with prayer.

Prayer is not as scary as it may sound. The key component to prayer is simply being present with the Lord. I often times picture myself kneeling before the cross. When I do, my focus is completely on Him and not on myself and my heart is humbled as I breathe in His immeasurable sacrifice for me. Sometimes my prayers are said in the sanctuary of my heart, no words, just silent fellowship with Him. Sometimes, I talk to Him like I’m talking to a friend---about everything and nothing, about small things and big things. Sometimes my prayer is simply saying, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus” in unison with the beating of my heart because I don’t know what else to say. I pray while I’m working. I pray while I’m sitting in the solitude of my home. And sometimes, I sing worship songs as my prayer (For those of you who know my singing ability, remember that Jesus tells us to make a joyful noise unto the Lord!). Jesus left an example of how to pray in Matthew 6:9-13: The Lord’s Prayer. Essentially, it reveals our respect, gratitude, need, and desire for Him in our lives.

Talking to someone we don’t know well yet is awkward to say the least. As we grow in friendship, it will become easier to be transparent and vulnerable before God and we will eventually hear His voice---not necessarily audibly, but He will make His presence and will known to us. He tells us that when we seek Him, we will find Him (Jer. 29:13). I promise He does not make Himself hard to find!

For me, nothing about nature escapes my ever searching eye for Him. I see God in the majestic, rugged mountains, in the long sandy beaches, in the vastness of fields, and in the mystic edges of hovering fog. I feel Him in the sun’s warmth, in the down pour of rain, and the gracefulness of falling snow. I smell Him in the pine trees and in the fresh cut grass. I hear Him in the silence of early mornings as the sun crests the eastern horizon. I hear Him in the whispers of the wind as it runs its fingers through the spindly branches of my willow tree. I hear Him in the sweet melody of the robins and the low hum of the hummingbirds. I could go on and on about the beauty I see of Christ in nature. God is in it all so that we might glimpse His glory and worship Him in utter admiration. This worship is prayer.

My daughter doesn’t make eye contact. Instead she worries a loose thread on her sweater. I know she’s listening, taking it all in, so I continue. I reminded her that attending church is not solely about learning something new, but also about being in community with other like-minded people who struggle like we do. It is a place where the walking wounded congregate and encourage one another by helping us fix our eyes on our Lord, the author and finisher of our faith (Heb. 12:2). She interrupts me and scowls, “That only happens when you are in a group. Once you leave that group for whatever reason, you are left on your own. Church is a very lonely place”. Boy, has she got me on that one. I have wrestled with organized religion all my life primarily for this very reason. Church can come across as a club and if you are not part of the “inner circle”, so to speak, you are on your own. It is easy to dwell here and become bitter.

Bitterness is a sneaky tactic of Satan’s. When we feel it brewing deep within us, we need to heed the warning and stop everything, fall to our knees, and ask the Lord to take it from us. Unchecked, bitterness will rob us of the very joy God so desperately wants for us. I, personally, have been hurt by the church repeatedly. I can choose to focus on the people who have grieved my soul or I can choose to seek God with all my heart, mind, and soul. Church is a place filled with sinners; many of them are desperately seeking God and desire to walk in communion with others who believe as they do.  

I love worship probably more than anything else; which is slightly ironic because I am the least musical person on the planet. In that moment, it is just me and God and I hardly notice others around me. It fills me, ministers to me, and is a balm for whatever has grieved my heart during the week. It draws me like nothing else.

It’s hard to sing a love song to a God we don’t know or feel in love with, or a God that we are questioning or even doubting. I say don’t sing, just listen. Let the words wash over you; allow them to lead you to seeking out more of Him. (Most songs sung in church are based on scripture).

Followed by worship is the sermon which is just a fancy word for a lesson. I have gone to several kinds of churches.  One where the Pastor yells and pounds his fists on the podium telling us that we’re all going to hell. Another church where I’ve heard great topical life lessons, but the Bible is not necessarily preached. And another kind of church called an expository church, where the scriptures are broken down and explained in detail so that common folk, like me, understand what we’re reading. The Bible, though originally written in Greek and Hebrew is not meant to sound like a foreign language to us. God wrote it for all people, so finding a translation that is easier to understand and find a style of teaching that is meaningful to us, one based on the Bible, is essential. If we don’t understand something, we need to seek someone out. Churches are equipped with staff to help find the answers to our questions.

My girl looks up at me and I feel I’ve lost her. I am not sure she is on the same page as I am here, which wounds my heart. I know that bitterness has taken root and is crowding out the Truth that must be plucked before she can find her way again. I continue on however, telling her that reading her Bible is perhaps the most valuable tool in learning about God’s character. When we see how He responds in the various stories He has left for us in His Word, we will discover Who He is---not just to Adam, the Israelites or even to the Apostle Paul, but Who He is to us. Fundamentally, “Jesus is servant, ministering to the needs of others” (Brennan Manning). You cannot fall in love with someone you don’t know. The Bible unfolds Christ’s character and without a doubt, as we read and study His Word, we will come to know and love Him.

Out of our love for Christ, we begin to deliberately, consciously, and eagerly desire to live for Him. Simply, this looks like love. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind; and love your neighbor as yourself” (Luke 10:27). Jesus lived for others. Jesus served others and gave sacrificially of Himself. We are to do the same—which is contrary to the mentality of our world. It is not up to us to determine how we will be used for God’s witness or for His glory. We simply love and let God take care of everything else.

Quietly sitting there, taking in my words, I run to the other room to grab the book I am reading because I have, have to share what I had just read that morning with my girl. “All that is not the love of God has no meaning for me. I can truthfully say that I have no interest in anything but the love of God which is in Christ Jesus. If God wants it to, my life will be useful through my word and witness. If He wants it to, my life will bear fruit through my prayers and sacrifices. But the usefulness of my life is His concern, not mine. It would be indecent of me to worry about that” (Dominique Voillaume).

I pause and look at my daughter. She slowly looks up at me and bites her quivering lip. She whispers, “So God really takes care of everything else, I just have to believe?” Tears streaming down my cheeks, I say, “Yes”.

It is my heart’s cry that my daughters apprehend the wonderment of God’s merciful gift to us, that they would accept being accepted (I’m still working on that myself), and understand that the essence for a follower of Jesus lays in living in faith, not some sort of checklist. “Living by faith consists in constantly redefining and reaffirming our identity with Jesus---measuring ourselves against Him---not measuring ourselves against our church dogmas and local heroes.  Jesus is the light of the world. In His light we discover that it is not mere rhetoric that Jesus demands, but personal renewal, fidelity to the Word, and creative conduct” (Brennan Manning).