Spiritual formation

Developing Devotion…

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

What the Early Church Can Teach Us About Daily Spiritual Formation

Someone once said, “The problem with life is that it happens so daily.” The same is true of spiritual formation. It rarely arrives in one dramatic moment. It happens daily. And it is that daily work of spiritual formation that equips us to obey Jesus when ordinary life happens.

Right after Pentecost, the Holy Spirit falls, Peter preaches, and three thousand people are added to the church in a single day. What happens next? Do they drift back to business as usual? No. Luke tells us:

“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.” (Acts 2:42, NIV)

What Is Devotion?

The key word is devoted—in the original Greek, proskartereō. It means to persist, to continue steadfastly, to hold fast. This is far more than casual interest or good intentions. It is wholehearted commitment.

We become what we repeatedly devote ourselves to. Everyone is devoted to something. The real question is not “Am I devoted?” but “To what am I devoted?”

Some of us are devoted to work—early mornings, late nights, minds always on the next thing. Others to family (a good thing), hunting, fishing, golf (though if you saw my golf game, you’d know I’m not devoted to that), shopping, or endless scrolling. None of these are inherently evil. But even good things can crowd out Christ if He is not shaping them.

Here is a truth I’ve wrestled with: Crisis doesn’t create our devotion—it reveals what we’ve been devoted to all along.

Luke doesn’t leave us guessing. He shows us exactly what captured the devotion of that first Spirit-filled church.

What Does Devotion Look Like?

They devoted themselves to four practices:

A. Devoted to the Apostles’ Teaching — Truth that Forms Us This was before the New Testament was written. They sat under the eyewitness testimony of Peter, John, Matthew, and others—hearing Jesus’ stories, parables, and commands directly.

The early church didn’t devote themselves to sharing opinions. They devoted themselves to receiving God’s truth.

We live in an age drowning in information but starving for transformation. The goal is not simply knowing more about Jesus. The goal is becoming more like Jesus.

B. Devoted to Fellowship (Koinonia) — People who Form Us This is far deeper than coffee and donuts after church. It’s shared life, shared burdens, and shared mission. Christianity is deeply personal but never private. The Gospel is a “we” proposition, not a “me” proposition.

There is no such thing as a solitary disciple. Jesus formed His followers in community, and He still does. That’s why the New Testament is filled with “one another” commands: confess sins to one another, bear with one another, encourage one another, forgive one another, spur one another on. Real koinonia looks like this.

C. Devoted to the Breaking of Bread — Grace that Forms Us This included ordinary meals together and the Lord’s Supper. The table became a place of remembrance, gratitude, equality, and belonging.

Spiritual formation doesn’t happen only in sanctuaries. It happens around tables. The early church was formed by sermons and suppers.

D. Devoted to Prayer — Dependence that Forms Us Prayer is not preparation for the work. Prayer is the work. The church born in prayer at Pentecost continued in prayer. A praying church knows it cannot form itself—it depends on the Holy Spirit.

How Is Devotion Lived Out?

Look at verse 46: “Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts.”

Spiritual formation is not an event or occasional inspiration. It is a daily rhythm. Life happens daily—discipleship must too.

Practically, this looks like:

  • Daily surrender
  • Daily prayer
  • Daily Scripture (sitting under teaching in our own time)
  • Daily connection with God’s people—a text, a call, a conversation, face-to-face when possible
  • Daily choosing obedience over convenience

These are not a magic formula. They are means of grace—ordinary ways we experience God and God reveals Himself to us. Spiritual disciplines.

The early disciples were not earning God’s grace through devotion. Their devotion was a response to the saving grace already given in Jesus Christ.

We need fewer rows of isolated spectators and more circles of people living life together, deepening devotion.

For me personally, this means shifting my morning drive to the shop. Instead of political podcasts that feed my cynicism, I need to choose silence and prayer so Jesus can form my heart first.

The Secret of the Early Church

The secret wasn’t talent, strategy, or programming. It was devotion—steadfast, day after day—to the apostles’ teaching, fellowship, the breaking of bread, and prayer. In the temple courts and house to house.

Truth formed their minds. Fellowship formed their relationships. The table formed their remembrance and gratitude. Prayer formed their dependence.

The same Holy Spirit who fell at Pentecost is with us right now. The question is not whether the Spirit is available. The question is whether we will devote ourselves to the things through which the Spirit forms us into the likeness of Jesus.

A Challenge

Choose one daily rhythm and shift it toward Christ: consistent time in Scripture and prayer, gathering with God’s people, meals around the table with glad hearts, or fresh daily surrender.

Take a quiet moment right now and ask: “What is forming me more than Jesus right now?”

What one rhythm needs to change so Christ shapes everything else?

If your calendar and habits were the only evidence, what would they say you are devoted to?

Let’s devote ourselves to what matters most. The Spirit who empowered them is ready to empower us.

What’s one rhythm you sense the Lord asking you to shift? Share in the comments—I read every one.

Until next time, keep looking up…

The Lifelong Fire…

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

Fire fell.

Wind blew.

Tongues of fire appeared over the disciples’ heads.

If you’ve spent much time around the church, you’ve probably heard the story of Pentecost in Acts 2. It’s one of the most dramatic moments in the entire Bible.

But here’s something I’ve been thinking about lately:

Eventually the fire disappeared.

The wind stopped blowing.

The extraordinary manifestations faded.

Yet the power remained.

Why?

Because the Holy Spirit remained.

When most people think about Pentecost, they focus on the moment. The signs. The wonders. The supernatural experience. But the real miracle wasn’t what happened for a few moments that day.

The real miracle was what happened afterward.

Acts 2 tells us that the believers devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, fellowship, prayer, worship, generosity, and shared life together. They became a community unlike anything the world had ever seen.

The visible evidence of the Holy Spirit’s work wasn’t ultimately the wind or the fire.

It was transformed people.

And that raises an important question for all of us.

What is forming us?

Because the truth is, every one of us is being formed by something.

Have you ever noticed how quickly your mood can change after spending a few minutes scrolling social media?

You can begin the day grateful and at peace, then suddenly find yourself irritated, fearful, cynical, or angry.

Nobody announces, “Today we’re going to shape your heart.”

Yet little by little, post by post, headline by headline, our hearts are being shaped.

I’ve noticed it in my own life.

Most mornings I leave home feeling pretty good. Grateful, even. But I’ve developed a habit of listening to political podcasts during my forty-minute drive to work. By the time I pull into the parking lot, I’m often frustrated with the world.

Angry.

Cynical.

Ready to argue with people I haven’t even met yet.

That realization forced me to confront something uncomfortable:

What we repeatedly consume eventually shapes who we become.

Something is always discipling us.

The question isn’t whether we’re being formed.

The question is who—or what—is forming us.

The Apostle Paul describes this struggle in Galatians 5. He speaks of a conflict between the flesh and the Spirit. The flesh isn’t simply sinful behavior. At its core, the flesh is our tendency toward self-rule. It is the instinct to remain in control of our own lives.

The flesh says, “I will decide what’s best for me.”

The Spirit says, “Trust God enough to surrender.”

That tension exists within every one of us.

Paul says the result of living according to the flesh is division, jealousy, selfish ambition, anger, and a host of other destructive attitudes and behaviors.

But when the Holy Spirit is shaping our lives, a different kind of fruit begins to emerge:

Love.

Joy.

Peace.

Patience.

Kindness.

Goodness.

Faithfulness.

Gentleness.

Self-control.

Notice something important.

Fruit doesn’t appear overnight.

Fruit grows.

That’s why spiritual formation is rarely instantaneous.

We often wish God would simply “zap” us into maturity. We want one prayer, one sermon, one worship experience, or one spiritual breakthrough to fix everything.

But God usually works differently.

There are moments of awakening.

Moments of conviction.

Moments of surrender.

Moments that change our direction.

Yet transformation itself is usually a journey.

The Holy Spirit may ignite the fire in a moment, but He forms the character of Christ in us over a lifetime.

That’s exactly what happened after Pentecost.

The same Spirit who fell in power stayed with those believers long after the excitement faded. Through worship, prayer, community, obedience, hardship, failure, and restoration, He continued shaping them into the likeness of Jesus.

Pentecost was the ignition.

Spiritual formation was the lifelong fire.

One of the things that stands out to me in Acts 2 is how deeply communal that transformation was.

Did you notice that almost every verb in Acts 2:42-47 is plural?

They devoted themselves.

They prayed.

They shared.

They worshiped.

They ate together.

They served together.

The Spirit who fell at Pentecost didn’t merely create individual Christians.

The Spirit created a community of disciples.

That’s a challenge for many of us because we live in a culture that prizes independence and self-sufficiency. We often think of faith as something private and personal.

The New Testament paints a different picture.

The Holy Spirit forms people together.

We need encouragement.

We need accountability.

We need people who know us well enough to celebrate our victories, challenge our blind spots, and walk with us through difficult seasons.

We need more than rows.

We need circles.

The Christian life was never intended to be lived alone.

As I reflected on all of this, I found myself asking a question that has become our congregation’s Question of the Month:

What is forming me more than Jesus right now?

That’s not a question designed to produce guilt.

It’s a question designed to produce awareness.

Because once we become aware of what’s shaping us, we can begin making intentional choices about what we allow to influence our hearts.

The good news is that God has not stopped forming people.

The same Holy Spirit who moved at Pentecost is still at work today.

Still transforming hearts.

Still calling people out of fear.

Still teaching us surrender.

Still shaping ordinary people into the likeness of Jesus Christ.

The question is not whether God desires to form you.

The question is whether you’re willing to surrender to the process.

So let me leave you with the same question I’ve been wrestling with myself:

What is forming you?

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Leave a comment below, or send me a message. I’d especially love to know your answer to this question:

What is forming you more than Jesus right now?

Until next time, keep looking up…

God Outside the Box

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

We live in a world where almost everything feels explainable.

Need directions? Pull out your phone.
Need medical advice? Pull out your phone.
Need to fix a washing machine or learn how to smoke a brisket? Pull out your phone.

We have more information available to us than any generation in history. And because so much of life now feels manageable, we’ve slowly begun assuming God should be manageable too.

We want answers. Certainty. Explanations. Systems we can organize and control.

Then we come to Trinity Sunday.

And Trinity Sunday reminds us that God is bigger than our understanding.

The doctrine of the Trinity has always stretched the human mind. One God. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Distinct, yet One. Christians have tried for centuries to explain it through illustrations and analogies, but eventually every illustration breaks down.

Why?

Because God is bigger than every comparison we create.

And maybe that’s the point.

Maybe the Trinity is not given so we can fully explain God. Maybe it’s given to remind us that God exists outside the boxes we keep trying to build for Him.

Jesus hinted at this in John 16 when He told His disciples:

“There is so much more I want to tell you, but you cannot bear it now.”

Think about that statement for a moment.

Jesus essentially says, “You’re not ready for the full picture yet.”

Honestly, neither are we.

One of humanity’s oldest temptations is the desire to control what we cannot fully understand. That struggle goes all the way back to Genesis. The serpent tempted Adam and Eve with the desire to “be like God.” Ever since then, humanity has been trying to reduce God into something manageable.

We want a God we can explain.
A God we can predict.
A God we can fit neatly into our political tribe, our preferences, and our comfort zones.

But God refuses to stay inside the boxes we create.

We’ve become incredibly tribal in our culture. It becomes easy to claim God for our side while assuming He fully opposes the other side. But anytime God fully agrees with everything my tribe already believes, I may not be worshipping God anymore.

I may be worshipping a mirror.

The Trinity reminds us that God is always bigger:

  • Bigger than our politics.
  • Bigger than our ideologies.
  • Bigger than our theological pride.
  • Bigger than our understanding.

Now don’t misunderstand me. The pursuit of knowledge is not bad. God gave us minds to think, learn, discover, and explore. Science itself grows out of humanity studying the order of God’s creation.

The mistake comes when we assume that because we can study creation, we can fully comprehend the Creator.

God is not a math equation to solve.

God is mystery.

And mystery makes us uncomfortable because mystery requires trust. We would often rather have explanations than dependence.

That’s why Christianity has never primarily been about mastering information. It has always been about learning trust.

Jesus said the Spirit would guide us into truth. Notice He didn’t say the Spirit would instantly explain everything. The Spirit guides. Slowly. Patiently. Over time.

That process is called sanctification.

Discipleship is formation, not just information.

That may be one of the greatest struggles facing the modern church today. We’ve convinced ourselves that if people know more, they will automatically become more spiritually mature. But information alone does not transform people.

You can know Bible verses and still not trust God.
You can understand doctrine and still live in fear.
You can win theological arguments and still refuse to surrender your heart.

The Spirit forms us gradually:

  • One act of obedience at a time.
  • One surrender at a time.
  • One step of trust at a time.

That’s why the question we’ve been asking at our church matters so much:

“What is one thing Jesus is asking you to obey right now that you’ve been avoiding?”

Because spiritual maturity is not about having God fully figured out.

It’s about trusting Him enough to obey what He has already revealed.

There are some things we may never fully understand this side of heaven:

  • Why suffering comes.
  • Why some prayers seem unanswered.
  • Why some doors close.
  • Why healing sometimes comes and sometimes doesn’t.

The apostle Paul once wrote:

“Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity.” (1 Corinthians 13:12)

Right now, we only see partially.

And honestly, that frustrates us. We want certainty. We want clarity. We want all the answers.

But perhaps part of God’s mercy is that He has not revealed everything yet.

Corrie Ten Boom once shared that as a little girl she feared she would not have enough faith to endure future suffering. Her father asked her, “When I buy your train ticket, when do I give it to you?”

She answered, “Right before we board the train.”

“That’s right,” he said. “And so it is with God. He gives you what you need when you need it.”

That’s how grace works.

Not usually early.
Not usually all at once.
But enough for the moment you’re standing in.

The good news of Christianity is not that we have God all figured out.

The good news is that God has us figured out — and loves us anyway.

He knows every contradiction in us. Every fear. Every failure. Every hidden struggle. Every doubt.

And still:

  • The Father creates us.
  • The Son redeems us.
  • The Spirit pursues and transforms us.

The Trinity reminds us that God is beyond us, but never absent from us.

Maybe faith is not about solving every mystery.

Maybe faith is learning to trust the One who already holds every mystery in His hands.

Because honestly, a god small enough to be fully explained would never be big enough to save us.

So perhaps the real question is not whether we fully understand God.

Perhaps the real question is this:

What area of your life are you still trying to control instead of surrendering to Him?

I’d love it if you’d share your answer to that question with me. Leave a comment below, or message me privately.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Let’s Have Church

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

The Church Was Never Meant to Run Without the Holy Spirit

Pentecost Sunday is all about the Holy Spirit.

And if we’re honest, the Holy Spirit makes a lot of church people nervous. 

We talk comfortably about God the Father.
We talk confidently about Jesus the Son.
But when we start talking about the Holy Spirit… people get anxious.

Some churches ignore the Spirit altogether.
Others abuse the language of the Spirit emotionally or manipulatively.
And somewhere in the middle, many churches have simply learned how to function without any real dependence on the Spirit at all. 

We know how to organize church.
We know how to livestream church.
We know how to market church.
We know how to schedule church.

But do we still know how to depend on the Spirit of God?

A.W. Tozer once said:

“If the Holy Spirit was withdrawn from the church today, 95 percent of what we do would go on and no one would know the difference.”

That quote stings because it feels uncomfortably possible.

Activity is not the same thing as anointing.
Noise is not the same thing as power.
Crowds are not the same thing as transformation.
And information is not the same thing as spiritual formation. 

The church was never meant to operate merely on talent, personality, strategy, or programming.

The church was born in fire.

The Waiting Before the Fire

When Acts 2 opens, the disciples are waiting in Jerusalem exactly where Jesus told them to be.

But don’t romanticize the waiting.

Waiting sounds spiritual until you actually have to do it.

Waiting is where anxiety grows.
Waiting is where uncertainty lives.
Waiting is where all the “what ifs” begin whispering in your mind. 

Some of you understand that kind of waiting right now.

Waiting on healing.
Waiting on direction.
Waiting on peace.
Waiting on prodigal children.
Waiting on strength.
Waiting on God to move.

And somewhere in that waiting, it becomes easy to wonder:

“God, are You still working?”

But what if the waiting room is actually preparation ground?

Sometimes God does His deepest work in us before He ever does His visible work through us.

Then Acts 2 says:

“Suddenly…”

I love that word.

Because God can change everything suddenly. 

When Heaven Breathes on Ordinary People

The Spirit of God filled that upper room with wind and fire.

Ordinary men and women were suddenly filled with extraordinary power.
The gospel began spreading across language barriers.
Lives began changing.
The church was born. 

Some people stood amazed.
Others mocked.

Peter stood up and declared:

“This is the fulfillment of the promise of God.”

Pentecost was not emotional hype.

Pentecost was divine ignition.

It was heaven breathing on surrendered people.

The Spirit Still Moves

On May 24, 1738, John Wesley attended a prayer meeting on Aldersgate Street in London and later wrote:

“I felt my heart strangely warmed.”

That moment helped ignite a spiritual movement that spread around the world. 

And here’s what matters:

The same Holy Spirit who moved at Pentecost…
the same Spirit who moved at Aldersgate…
is still moving today.

The Holy Spirit is not merely a doctrine to study.
The Spirit is the presence of God transforming people into the likeness of Jesus Christ. 

The Spirit convicts.
The Spirit comforts.
The Spirit empowers.
The Spirit produces holiness.
The Spirit gives courage.
The Spirit breaks chains.

Only the Spirit of God can truly change a human heart.

The Evidence of the Spirit

That’s why I keep asking the same question as a pastor:

What is one thing Jesus is asking you to obey right now that you’ve been avoiding? 

Not admire.
Not agree with.
Not study.

Obey.

Because the evidence of the Holy Spirit is not merely emotional excitement.

It is transformed obedience.

Maybe for you that means forgiveness.
Maybe surrender.
Maybe reconciliation.
Maybe honesty.
Maybe letting go of a grudge, an addiction, or an excuse you’ve carried for years.

We often want the fire of Pentecost without the surrender of Pentecost.

But the Spirit was never given simply to make us feel something in worship.

The Spirit was given to make us more like Jesus. 

When the Fire Grows Weak

If I’m honest, there are seasons when even pastors feel spiritually dry.

You keep preaching.
Keep serving.
Keep carrying responsibility.

Meanwhile your soul quietly whispers:

“Lord… I need fresh fire.” 

Maybe I’m not the only one.

Maybe some of you still believe…
still show up…
still try…

But somewhere along the way the wonder faded.

Pentecost reminds us that God still breathes life into weary people.
He still awakens dry souls.
He still fills empty hearts.
He still empowers ordinary believers. 

So… Let’s Have Church

When the Spirit truly moves:

Forgiveness happens.
Fear gives way to courage.
Hope rises again.
Pride begins to crumble.
People begin obeying Jesus instead of merely admiring Him. 

Church isn’t merely a weekly gathering we attend.

Church is what happens when the Spirit of God fills ordinary people with extraordinary grace and power.

The wind of God is still blowing.
The fire of God is still falling.
The Spirit of God is still moving.

So come on…

Let’s have church. 

Until next time, keep looking up…

Trying Harder Never Works

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

Acts 1:1–11

Most of us Christians already know what we’re supposed to do.

Forgive people.
Pray more consistently.
Trust God more deeply.
Stop returning to the same sin.
Let go of bitterness.
Obey what Jesus is asking of us.

The problem usually isn’t information.

It’s power.

That’s why Ascension Sunday matters far more than most people realize.

Most people think the Ascension is about Jesus leaving. It’s actually about Jesus reigning.

In Acts 1, the disciples stood watching as Jesus ascended into heaven. If we had been there, we probably would have thought the same thing they were thinking:

“He’s gone.”

But that’s not what the Ascension means at all.

Right before Jesus ascended, He told His disciples:

“You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you…” (Acts 1:8)

Then He went up.

He went up…so the Spirit could come down.

The Ascension is not Jesus stepping away from His people. It is Jesus taking His throne.

The New Testament repeatedly tells us that Christ is seated at the right hand of the Father. That’s not a place of inactivity. It’s a place of authority.

The cross is finished.
The resurrection is accomplished.
And now Jesus reigns as King.

And Kings don’t make suggestions.

That changes how we understand the Christian life.

Because Christianity was never meant to be lived through sheer willpower.

Most of us have tried that already.

We make promises.
We recommit ourselves.
We vow to do better.
Then somewhere down the road we find ourselves struggling with the same attitudes, the same habits, the same failures, and the same exhaustion.

The problem is not that we lack effort.

The problem is that we are trying to live a spiritual life without spiritual power.

That’s why Jesus sent the Holy Spirit.

And let’s be clear about something: The Holy Spirit is not a force. He is not an energy. He is not a religious feeling.

He is a Person.

He speaks.
He convicts.
He guides.
He comforts.
He corrects.
He can even be grieved.

You can’t grieve a force.
You can only grieve a person.

The Holy Spirit is God within us.

We often say:
The Father is God over us.
The Son is God beside us.
The Spirit is God within us.

And that changes everything.

The Holy Spirit is not simply here to make us more religious. He is here to make us more alive.

Paul says in Romans 15 that the Spirit fills us with joy and peace and causes us to overflow with hope.

That’s not the absence of struggle.
That’s victory in the middle of struggle.

And that kind of life cannot be manufactured through discipline alone.

It comes through surrender.

Years ago, a missionary named Herbert Jackson was assigned a car that would not start without a push. Every day he found people to help push the car off. He parked on hills whenever possible. He kept the engine running whenever he could.

He lived that way for two years.

Finally, another missionary looked under the hood and discovered a loose battery cable. He tightened the connection, turned the key, and the engine roared to life.

For two years, the power had been there.

The problem was connection.

That may describe some of us spiritually.

We love Jesus.
We mean well.
We want to change.

But we keep finding ourselves exhausted because we’re trying to produce spiritual transformation through human effort alone.

And eventually we begin to wonder:
“Why do I keep struggling with the same things?”
“Why do I keep falling into the same patterns?”
“Why does the Christian life feel so heavy sometimes?”

Because the Christian life was never meant to be powered by human strength.

Jesus never said:
“Try harder.”

He said:
“Remain in Me.”

That’s a very different thing.

The problem is not that Jesus is absent.
The problem is not that the Spirit is unwilling.
The problem may simply be surrender.

Because the Holy Spirit does not force Himself upon us.

He waits.

For surrender.
For obedience.
For yieldedness.

And maybe that brings us back to the question we’ve been wrestling with together these past few weeks:

What is one thing Jesus is asking you to obey right now that you’ve been avoiding?

That may be your loose cable.

That may be the place where pride is keeping you disconnected.
Or fear.
Or bitterness.
Or addiction.
Or control.
Or simply delayed obedience.

And here’s the good news:
The power is not missing.

The Spirit of God is still present.
Jesus is still reigning.
Grace is still available.
Transformation is still possible.

You do not have to stay trapped in the same cycle forever.

Jesus went up…
so He could come down.

Not just to forgive you.
But to fill you.
To strengthen you.
To guide you.
To transform you.

Trying harder never works.

But surrender does.

And when the Spirit of God begins to take control of a surrendered life—
everything changes.

Until next time, keep looking up…

The Hard Pill of Accountability…

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

It is no secret that I hate reports. When I left full-time ministry, I said to myself, “Self, you’re done with reports.”

What I hate more than reports? Lying to myself! I lied to myself when I said I was done with reports because I just finished my “Pastor’s Report” for the small church where I serve. I suppose if I didn’t want to do reports then I shouldn’t have signed on to pastoring again–even part-time.

I will admit that I was convicted by the report, which I suppose reporting is meant to accomplish. The report asked the question, “What is the Lord currently speaking to you about your personal discipleship?” I must say that I didn’t want to answer the question.

Here’s the answer I gave: “The primary place the Lord is challenging me is in my personal accountability. Since beginning to serve as pastor at Haughton, it has been difficult to stay in a meaningful relationship with my accountability partners. Time and distance have prevented those relationships other than the occasional phone call. The Lord is convicting me to be more intentional in staying connected.”

A Means of Grace

Accountability. That’s my growing edge. Accountability is much easier in full-time vocational ministry. As a bi-vocational pastor, I have struggled to maintain any legitimate accountability relationships. The accountability of reporting brought that reality front and center. Ironic, huh?

I could offer several excellent excuses (time, distance, blah, blah, blah) as justification for allowing my accountability relationships to fall by the wayside, but the truth is personal accountability simply became an afterthought after stepping away from full-time ministry.

I don’t know why that happened. I’m nothing if not Wesleyan in my understanding of grace, and for Wesley, accountability (he called it Christian conferencing) is at the heart of faithful discipleship. Accountability is a means of grace–a means of experiencing the sanctifying grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. I suppose I haven’t been a very faithful disciple in recent years.

Of course, accountability partners are useless unless there is honesty in the process. It’s easy to be dishonest when there’s an issue you want to cover-up. Maybe not even cover-up…one simply doesn’t want to deal with it…so, just don’t say anything.

Accountability and a Fall from Grace

The necessity of honest accountability was brought home, not simply by the accountability of filling out reports, but also by the news that another (yes, one more) popular Christian leader had fallen from his lofty perch. Author and speaker Philip Yancey announced that he was leaving public life after confessing to an eight-year affair.

The news was heart-breaking for me, not only because another prominent Christian was found to be a sinner (like me), but because Yancey’s books were meaningful in my own spiritual development. His book, “What’s So Amazing About Grace?” was published while I was in seminary and was seminal in fleshing out my own understanding of God’s grace. When I left full-time ministry, I actually wrestled with giving my copy of the book away (alas, I did). So, to say the news was disappointing is an understatement.

Of course, the news made me wonder about Yancey’s own accountability. Apparently, it didn’t matter (at least not for eight years), but then again, it only matters if we surround ourselves with true accountability partners and surrender ourselves to the process. See, accountability is real easy to talk about. It is much harder to accomplish.

Surrender to Accountability

I think one reason accountability is so hard is because we have to surrender to it. When we surrender, we are no longer in control, and we like nothing more than we like control. For many of us surrender is not in our vocabulary. Yet, surrender is exactly what we must do if we are to live faithful, Christian lives. Surrender is the essence of becoming the “living sacrifice” that the Apostle Paul mention is Romans 12: 1-2–

“Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. 2 Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”

I’m not going to be mad at Yancey for being a sinner (like some people I’ve read). I’m going to remind myself about the grace of which he wrote. I’m also going to remember that Truth is still true even if the Truth is spoken by a flawed messenger. We are all flawed messengers. That’s why we all need grace.

I’m also not going to be mad at God. God didn’t have a thing to do with Yancey’s fall. It was all on Yancey (well, and whoever he had the affair with). This was a them problem, not a God problem. It won’t lessen my faith in Him. If anything, it may strengthen it. It will certainly remind me of my continual need for Him.

What I am going to do is reflect on my own sinfulness and put in place those measures necessary to guard my own heart and mind–surrender means both the mind and the body (see Romans 12 above)–against any possibility this could happen to me. Let’s call it what it is–accountability–honest, frequent, personal accountability. I need it. We all do if we’re going to live faithful lives as disciples of Jesus Christ.

So, I guess those reports that I loathe so much are useful after all. Perhaps my accountability can include confessing to those higher up the food chain than me that I hate their stupid reports. Maybe that will keep me honest to the process? No, probably not. I need to be a little more intentional than that. I need to be a little more surrendered than that.

Until next time, keep looking up…

A Man After God’s Heart…

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

Israel’s King David is (perhaps) the most well-known religious figure in the world besides Jesus Christ. He certainly is to the Jewish people and to most Christians. Honestly, to most Christians (and not a few Jews) he’s almost superhuman.

I bring David up because I’ve been meditating on his life, and particularly his calling (anointing as king) all week long. I’ve preached the passage before, and I’m preaching it again this week, but as I’ve studied and meditated this week, I just can’t seem to get to the “heart” of one particular passage of Scripture:

7 But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Samuel 16: 7 NIV)

I have been stuck on the phrase, “the Lord looks at the heart” all week. I’ve asked myself three questions all week long:

  1. What does the Lord see when He looks at the human heart?
  2. What did the Lord see when He looked at David’s heart?
  3. What does the Lord see when He looks at my heart?

The Context

I suppose I should set the context for the passage. It was the period of the Judges in Israel’s history when the people began clamoring for a King (1 Samuel 8). Samuel’s time as prophet/judge was drawing to a close and the people rejected his sons, who had been tapped to take his place. Samuel’s sons were corrupt and the people knew it. They wanted different leadership.

The lesson in that is be careful what you ask for. You might just get it. What the people got was their first king named Saul. Saul, who was “the most handsome man in all Israel–head and shoulders above everyone else in the land” (1 Samuel 9:2). Unfortunately this tall handsome guy turned out to be half-crazy and disobedient, and was ultimately rejected by God as King of Israel (1 Samuel 15).

Enter God’s call to Samuel to anoint another King in Saul’s place, and this takes us to the sleepy little town outside Jerusalem called Bethlehem where Jesse and his family keep flocks for a living. Jesse is the grandson of Ruth and Boaz (find their story here), and the Lord tells Samuel to go and anoint one of Jesse’s sons as the new King He has chosen for His people Israel.

Samuel is hesitant to do so (What if Saul finds out?), so the Lord tells Samuel to go to Bethlehem to offer a sacrifice and invite Jesse’s family to the sacrifice, and while you’re at it, take the horn of oil–kinda’ keep it out of sight until the time is right–and when I tell you, anoint a new King.

I could chase a rabbit here and explore the idea that God uses deception to accomplish His will, but that’s for another day. I’m just going to leave that thought right there because I really want to understand what God sees when He looks at David’s (and my) heart.

Samuel makes the trek to Bethlehem, invites Jesse’s family and begins to parade Jesse’s sons before the gathered body. Eliab, the oldest, is brought forward first. “Surely,” Samuel thinks, “this is the one.” He’s the oldest, so it’s got to be him, right? Wrong!

It’s then that the Lord announces to Samuel verse 7. See, Samuel just can’t get past appearances. Eliab is the oldest, perhaps the tallest, too. Samuel uses the same standard for David that was used for the previous King, Saul. Even the prophet/judge Samuel misses the mark. He does what we all are prone to doing–we like judging a book by its cover. The Lord says, “Not so fast!”

In order from oldest to youngest, seven of Jesse’s sons are brought to Samuel. All seven are rejected. Finally, Samuel asks Jesse if there are any more sons. “Yes,” he replies, “but he’s the youngest and he’s busy tending the flocks since you’ve got the rest of us here.”

“Send for him,” Saul says. “We’re not having supper until he gets here.”

David arrives. He is the chosen one. Saul anoints him as Israel’s next King. The Lord looked past his appearance and saw his heart.

This is where it gets really sticky for me. I (along with countless pastors in the past) have preached that there was something special about David’s heart. If we could just figure out what that was, we could learn how to be “people after God’s own heart” (1 Samuel 13:14 and Acts 13:22).

Godly Character

Yeah, I came up with lots of good sermon material. I can easily come up with 10 characteristics that reflect David’s heart. All one has to do is read the Psalms:

Humility – Lowborn men are but a breath, the highborn are but a lie; if weighed on a balance, they are nothing; together they are only a breath. Psalm 62:9

Reverence – I call to the Lord, who is worthy of praise, and I am saved from my enemies. Psalm 18:3

Respectfulness – Be merciful to me, O Lord, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and my body with grief. Psalm 31:9

Trust – The LORD is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid? Psalm 27:1

Loving – I love you, O Lord, my strength. Psalm 18:1

Devotion – You have filled my heart with greater joy than when their grain and new wine abound. Psalm 4:7

Recognition – I will praise you, O Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonders. Psalm 9:1

Faithfulness – Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever. Psalm 23:6

Obedience – Give me understanding, and I will keep your law and obey it with all my heart. Psalm 119:34

Repentance – For the sake of your name, O Lord, forgive my iniquity, though it is great. Psalm 25:11

Yeah, that would make a great (and long) sermon. Hey, if I could just exhibit those characteristics, I’d be a great Christian. The Lord would see my heart and He’d just smile.

A Dose of Reality

But, there are two passages of Scripture that have given me “heart-burn” as I’ve prayed over this passage. The first is found in Jeremiah 17: 9-10:

The heart is deceitful above all things
    and beyond cure.
    Who can understand it?

10 “I the Lord search the heart
    and examine the mind,
to reward each person according to their conduct,
    according to what their deeds deserve.”

The second is in Romans:

There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, 23 for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, 24 and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. (Romans 3: 22b-24 NIV)

In light of Jeremiah 17 and Romans 3, I’m not so sure David had a great heart. I’m not so sure I do, either!

Yes, David could be all the things we talked about. He could have great faith and be wonderfully obedient. He could show proper reverence, respect and humility. He could be a great leader of people. He could be all those things, but he could also be an adulterer and murderer (2 Samuel 11). Let’s not forget that he was a less than stellar parent, too (2 Samuel 13-14).

I, too, want to say I have a heart after God’s heart, but then I look at my own heart and think, “Do I really?” No! I’m much like Rev. Alexander Whyte, who upon receiving great praise from one of his happy congregants, replied, “Madam, if you could see my heart, you’d spit in my face.”

Yes, being able to develop godly characteristics will always make me a better person, but being a better person will not save me. Only Jesus Christ can save me! How do I get from my sad, sinful heart to God’s heart? Only through Jesus Christ. He is the key. That must be what God sees when He looks at David’s heart. I pray it is what He sees when He looks at mine.

How so?

I take my clue from John Woodhouse, who translates the passage thusly: “For the Lord sees not as man sees, for man sees according to the eyes, but the Lord sees according to the heart.” It is a subtle, but major difference in this and the translation of most interpreters. In this rendering, it is God’s heart that He sees…meaning that David was chosen according to God’s purpose, just as Israel was “chosen” by God.

God views everything according to His own intentions and purposes. what I mean is that God’s choice is not on account of any peculiar fondness that he has for David—not because he has a particular liking to David, a liking that he doesn’t share for the other brothers, or that David has a peculiar and special quality which makes him attractive to God.

What it means is the fact that God, because he is God and because he is sovereign, is able to divinely select the one who is to be the king. And what it has to deal with is the fact of God’s electing (we Wesleyans hate that word) love rather than some notion of the suitability of a particular person.

Our Only Hope

It’s not that David’s heart was full of God, but rather that God’s heart was full of David. It was God looking through David’s heart to see Jesus Christ. It’s all about the place the man has in God’s heart rather than the place God has in the man’s heart.

I can only trust that when God looks at my heart, he sees Jesus Christ. If He doesn’t, I am lost, indeed, for only in Jesus Christ can I find redemption, reconciliation and salvation. He alone is my source of hope. I will put my trust in Him alone.

I’ve probably muddied the waters for everyone except myself, but I have, at least for myself, gotten to the “heart” of the matter. After all, every event in the Old Testament is leading us to Jesus. My own righteousness is as filthy rags (Isaiah 64:6). I can’t depend on my own heart. I can only depend on the loving heart of God.

I want to be a man who has a place in God’s heart.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Empty!

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

This blog, like Easter itself, if full of empty. Unlike this blog, though, Easter empty is full of God’s promises. The empty cross is full of God’s promise of forgiveness. The empty tomb is full of God’s promise of eternal life. The empty grave clothes are full of God’s promise of a personal relationship with His Son, Jesus Christ.

Even though you clicked on the link to read what you thought was a blog filled with profound insights into the mystery of Easter only to be disappointed by its emptiness, you will not be disappointed by the empty things you find on Easter morning.

My prayer for all of us this morning is that we will live into the fullness of God’s promises in the empty cross, the empty tomb and the empty grave clothes.

Now, get up and go to church!

Until next time, keep looking up…

I Still Don’t Understand…

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

I’ve been contemplating Jesus’ parable of the Prodigal Son all week in preparation for Sunday. I’ve preached the parable many times before (find one example here), so one of things that makes it so difficult to preach again is finding something fresh and new to say.

You remember the parable, right? A man had two sons. The younger son tells the father that he wants his share of his father’s estate now. The father divides his estate between his two sons and the younger son travels to a distant land where he wastes his money in “prodigal” living.

When the younger son “comes to himself,” he devises a scheme to return home to the father. Surprisingly, the father receives him back and throws the grandest of parties for his lost son who is now found.

Meanwhile, the older son returns home after working in the father’s fields. He discovers the party being thrown for the younger son and becomes angry. He refuses to go in and participate, so the father comes out to him. “‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found‘” (Luke 15:32).

A Story Once Told

I’ve shared the story of the first time my grandfather let me drive solo (find it here), so I’ll not share it here again, but I said that I didn’t understand it then that my grandfather was painting me a picture of God’s grace. As a matter of full confession, now that I’m so much older (that was almost 50 years ago!), I’m not so sure I understand it any better. Oh, I understand what my grandfather was doing, but I don’t really understand grace any better.

Okay, okay, okay! Yes, I do understand grace better…and, that’s the problem. I understand it. I just don’t want to live it. In my old age…the age when I should be living more as the Father than either of the sons…I find myself in the older son.

Jesus told the story to the scribes and Pharisees who were complaining about Jesus eating with sinners. In response to their complaint, he tells three stories: the lost sheep, the lost coin and the lost son. Each one builds upon the other with the climax being the return of the lost son to the family. It is no wonder, that in response to the Pharisee and scribes, the story ends with the father’s interaction with the older son. The implication is clear: the older son was representative of the scribes and Pharisees.

Good Guys or Bad Guys

This is where it gets sticky for me. The scribes and the Pharisees in the New Testament are the bad guys, right? But, I consider the older son for a moment and I think, “Wait! He’s really not that bad.”

Here’s what we know about the older son. First, he was industrious. He was working the fields. He was doing his duty. Aren’t those laudable characteristics?

He was also very prudent. He said to his father, “…this son of yours has squandered your property…”

The older son exhibited loyalty to the father. He was where he was supposed to be doing what he was supposed to be doing. As a matter of fact, it was his loyalty, industriousness and prudence that kept the family farm together. It was because of him that the younger son even had a place to return to at all. He was the good son.

I want to be the good son. I like hard work. I like industriousness. I like prudence. I like loyalty. What is the danger in any of those qualities? Well, I can only tell you what I see in me…

The Pharisee in Me

First, sometimes I think I care more about tradition than I do people. I get too busy working that I don’t see the need of people around me…or I just don’t care. Apparently, the older brother knew what the younger son was up to: “squandered your property on prostitutes” (vs. 30). He knew but he didn’t do anything about it. Was it because he didn’t care?

Have I become hardened to the brokenness of others? Am I indifferent to the suffering around me? I’m reminded of what Clovis Chappell said, “There is no more dangerous or cruel sin than that of indifference–the ability to look upon the wounds and woes of others and be unmoved.”

God help me, but sometimes I really feel like I don’t care! I feel like a man standing on a pier watching someone drown and rather than throwing them a rope I simply say, “Shoulda’ learned to swim like I did.”

The world is going to hell. The world needs grace and I need to show it, but it’s just so hard! It’s hard because of the second thing I see in me, and that is that my sense of duty and justice have taken the place of joy in my life. My sense of justice can cause me to get angry. I didn’t say righteously indignant. There’s a difference.

Righteous indignation is born of love. Anger is born of envy. Jesus demonstrated righteous indignation when he drove the money changers out to the Temple (Matthew 21: 12-17). It was his love and concern for the people that motivated him. On the other hand, it was the envy of the Pharisees that motivated them to pursue Jesus, even to his death. What motivates me? I wonder?

Become the Father

This older son was farther away from the father than the younger son ever was. He may have been close in proximity, but he was further in experience. I think it is because the older son just didn’t understand the father. The father tells him, “Everything I have is yours…(vs. 31).” The father had already given it to him: “So he divided his property between them (v. 12).” The older son spent a lifetime trying to earn what he had already been given.

The implication of the entire story is for all of us–both older sons and younger–sons to become like the father. But, I’m just going to leave it right here–grace is easier to receive than it is to give. Honestly, the Father has got a whole lot more work to do in me.

So, I guess that’s why I still don’t understand. Maybe one day I will.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Pondering Tozer…

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

The recent fire in our home put the reading of A. W. Tozer as part of my devotional habit on hold for a few weeks. My books were in the living room that was filled with soot and ash, and it was three weeks before the books were cleaned.

Okay, it’s been over a month since the fire and my house still isn’t clean, but that’s another story I’ll save for another time. I need to get over my frustration with the cleaning company before I express my sentiments publicly. Mama always said, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything.” So, I’m not saying anything.

I picked up Tozer again this week, and there are several quotes that I have been ruminating over the last several days. I share them here. Perhaps the quotes will prompt you to ponder, as well. Please keep in mind that Tozer died in 1963. If it was bad in 1963, how bad must it be today?

These quotes are from The Pursuit of God:

Self-Sins

“To be specific, the self-sins are these: self-righteousness, self-pity, self-confidence, self-sufficiency, self-admiration, self-love and a host of others like them.”

Tozer identifies self-love as a sin. I get that, but at the same time, I wrestle with what Jesus said to the scribe in Mark 12: 31–“The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself‘.” Where is that line? I know it has much to do with being as forgiving of others as I am of myself. I know when I screw-up, I am very quick to extend grace to myself, and make several excellent excuses for what I’ve done. I should be so quick to do that for others. I know there’s more to it than that, but I still want to know, “How do I love myself without being guilty of the sin of self-love?”

Self Promotion

“Promoting self under the guise of promoting Christ is currently so common as to excite little notice.”

Oh, the things we do in the name of Christ that have nothing to do with Jesus! Jesus gets credit for a lot of things he would really rather have nothing to do with, and he gets the blame for many things that are absolutely not on him. I suspect it is (at least in my case) because we want to avoid responsibility and accountability for ourselves. I noticed that self-responsibility and self-accountability are not in Tozer’s list of the “self” sins.

Scribe or Pharisee

“Between the scribe who has read and the prophet who has seen there is a difference as wide as the sea. We are today overrun with orthodox scribes, but the prophets, where are they? The hard voice of the scribe sounds over evangelicalism, but the Church waits for the tender voice of the saint who has penetrated the veil and has gazed with inward eye upon the Wonder that is God. And yet, thus to penetrate, to push in sensitive living experience into the holy Presence, is a privilege open to every child of God.”

I am especially convicted by Tozer’s quote above because of one old seminary professor. That professor, after hearing one of my sermons, approached me and said, “Lynn, you have the gift of prophetic utterance. Use the gift wisely.” I fear I have not used it wisely, but rather have not used it at all. Unfortunately, I have fancied myself more the scribe (who has read) than the prophet (who has seen). Oh! To be one who has seen the Lord, high and lifted up, glorified and sitting on the Throne, instead of one who only knows what he has read of the glory of the Almighty.

Dying to Self

“Let us remember: when we talk of the rending of the veil we are speaking in a figure, and the thought of it is poetical, almost pleasant; but in actuality there is nothing pleasant about it. In human experience that veil is made of living spiritual tissue; it is composed of the sentient, quivering stuff of which our whole beings consist, and to touch it is to touch us where we feel pain. To tear it away is to injure us, to hurt us and make us bleed. To say otherwise is to make the cross no cross and death no death at all. It is never fun to die. To rip through the dear and tender stuff of which life is made can never be anything but deeply painful. Yet that is what the cross did to Jesus and it is what the cross would do to every man to set him free.”

Every disciple must die–he/she must die to self, and as Tozer says, “It is never fun to die.” The greater pain comes in knowing that I must die to self everyday, and everyday that death is no less painful. Perhaps that is why I avoid it so much. Didn’t Jesus say, “If anyone desires to be my disciple, they must take up their cross daily…?” I am reminded in these moments of the words of the great G. K. Chesterton: “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried.”

I think that’s quite enough pondering for one day (probably enough for a week). I admit I long to read Tozer because I know he’ll light a fire under me, but then I read Tozer and the conviction often outweighs the anticipation with which I began.

Tozer. Always compelling. Always interesting. Always convicting. Always challenging. Always worth it. May I commend him to you?

Until next time, keep looking up…