Christian Living

When Everything Becomes a Bet

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

I don’t know why (I’ve never used a betting app in my life), but an advertisement popped up on my phone recently offering me the opportunity to bet on whether the price of silver would go up or down over the next twenty-four hours. Silver. Over the next twenty-four hours. Who knew?

The ad was for Kalshi, a prediction-market platform. Its products are called event contracts, and its exchange model differs from a traditional sportsbook—or so I’m told. I’m not versed enough in online betting to know the difference. What I do know is online wagering has proliferated recently, and I can’t think that’s a good thing. Apparently, we can now bet on anything in life. Increasingly, the opportunity comes looking for us.

WHEN TRUST BECOMES A SALES PITCH

That bothers me—more than a little. One of the reasons it bothers me is that a few of my favorite podcasts are now being sponsored by these “betting” markets. Though not specifically faith-based, they are led by folks who claim a deep faith. That gives me a little heartburn. When we come to trust someone’s voice, that trust can extend to what they’re selling. I wonder whether these hosts have thought enough about what they’re inviting their listeners to do.

I’m also concerned that these betting markets are being used as a gauge for future elections. What are the chances so-and-so will win? What are the odds the Republicans hold onto the House? I wonder how those “predictions” might shape our judgment. A candidate’s chances of winning tell us very little about whether that person ought to win. Are we allowing the way people bet to influence the way we think about whom to vote for?

A SAINTS FAN’S CONFESSION

Sports betting raises another concern: the integrity of the games themselves.

Now, I need to confess something. I love the New Orleans Saints. And I have occasionally been accused of wearing a tin-foil hat when discussing the way officials treat my team. I rather prefer to think of it as protective headgear for a long-suffering fan.

After watching Jared Goff’s apparent fumble become an incomplete pass, then watching a similar-looking play involving Tyler Shough remain a fumble against the Raiders, I suspect my tin-foil hat club has picked up a few members. Welcome. Bring your own aluminum foil. We’re a modest operation.

Yes, I’ve heard the rules explanations. No, I have no evidence that either call had anything to do with gambling. Being a Saints fan does not qualify me to conduct a federal investigation, though it has given me considerable experience demanding one.

Beneath my humor, though, is a serious concern. Players, coaches, and officials make decisions that affect what happens on the field. Those decisions can also affect the outcome of wagers. That creates opportunities for conflicts of interest, misuse of inside information, and deliberate manipulation.

A disputed call does not establish any of those things. But it can illustrate how fragile trust becomes when fans know money is riding on the decision. A bad call has always been part of sports. Betting can add another question to the familiar argument about whether the official got it right: did somebody have a reason to get it wrong?

I need to be careful about asking that question of any particular person without evidence, but I’ll also remind us that betting-related misconduct has occurred. The NBA banned Jontay Porter after finding he shared confidential information, limited participation for betting purposes, and wagered on NBA games.

That example matters because an entire team does not have to agree to lose for a wager to be compromised. A market tied to one individual’s performance can create an opportunity for that individual to influence the result. The temptation deserves attention before another scandal gives us a reason to pay it.

THE NEXT BET IS ALWAYS WITHIN REACH

There was a time when going somewhere to gamble required at least the decision to go. That offered no guarantee of restraint, but it created a boundary. A phone puts the opportunity in our pocket. The same device we use to talk to our children, check the weather, and read the news can invite us to put money on the next uncertain outcome—the next election, the next game, even the next solitary play.

Convenience is usually presented as a good thing. I don’t think we can say the same thing when it comes to gambling. What happens when the next wager is always within reach? What happens when a loss can immediately be followed by another opportunity to win it back? And what responsibility belongs to businesses that earn money by encouraging us to keep participating?

WHOSE MONEY?

As disciples of Jesus, we ought to ask what this constant invitation to wager is doing to our families, our communities, and our understanding of a good life.

I find those questions inseparable from stewardship and contentment. The money entrusted to us carries responsibilities—to our households, to our neighbors, and to the work God calls us to do. The promise of a quick gain can make the ordinary work of earning, saving, giving, and waiting seem painfully inadequate.

Are we stewards? If so, then just whose money are we gambling with? I could rattle off a list of biblical passages that leave little doubt whose money it is. The one I’ll mention here is Matthew 25:14–30, the Parable of the Talents. The servants are entrusted with their master’s property, and they are accountable for what they do with it. That ought to make us ask whether the way we use what God has entrusted to us reflects His purposes.

What does faithful stewardship look like when I open my wallet—or an app on my phone? Am I considering what God would have me do with what He has given me? His generous grace ought to move me to gratitude and faithfulness. That deserves more thought than the odds on my next wager.

ARE WE CONTENT?

It’s not just a matter of faithful stewardship, either. It’s also an issue of contentment. I’m reminded of Hebrews 13:5 here: “Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.’”

Are we trusting God for His provision, or are we trusting in blind luck?

We also need to consider how gambling can feed greed and envy. Do we gamble because we want something we don’t have? Do we gamble because we want something that belongs to someone else? Even if we start out simply wanting a little entertainment, we ought to pay attention to what keeps us coming back.

In Philippians 4, Paul describes contentment as something he learned. That suggests practice. It suggests that our desires need formation. A steady invitation to imagine how much better life could be after the next winning wager offers a competing lesson.

MORE THAN PERSONAL CHOICE

Certainly, some people place an occasional bet and stop. But a biblical assessment cannot end with the person who can afford a loss and walk away. It must also consider the person who keeps going, the spouse who discovers the missing money, and the child whose needs go unmet. When money needed at home is lost, the consequences reach people who never agreed to the wager.

Personal freedom matters. So do the responsibilities that come with it. Calling an activity a personal choice does not make all its consequences personal.

Friends, we can be biblical about this subject without humiliating people who are struggling–that’s what grace is for. Someone whose betting has become destructive needs the church. They need a place to tell the truth, find practical help, and discover people who are willing to walk with them. Their family needs care as well.

Even when gambling is legal, legality is an insufficient measure of whether an industry serves the common good. We can recognize personal freedom while questioning businesses that continually encourage people to risk money. We can enjoy sports while insisting that their integrity matters more than the number of markets someone can build around them.

That little advertisement about silver left me with a question much larger than tomorrow’s price. Just because we can make a bet out of something, should we?

I would like us to recover the freedom to enjoy a game, follow the news, or pick up our phones without being invited to put money on what happens next.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Living a Life Worthy of the Gospel: Does Our Life Match Our Faith?

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

Philippians 1:27–30

At SpeeDee Oil Change, our technicians receive a shirt that says “Performance Certified” after they complete their training. The shirt tells the customer something: this person has been trained to do the work you are trusting us to do.

But the customer has a right to expect something beyond the shirt. He expects the right oil in the engine. He expects us to check what we say we will check and take care of the vehicle he has entrusted to us. The shirt makes a statement. The work ought to support it. If the shirt says one thing while the service says something else, which one do you think the customer will believe?

That raises a question for those of us who wear the name Christian: Does our conduct match the name we wear?

We can attend worship, carry a Bible, and know the words to the songs. But people encounter our faith in the way we speak to them, treat our families, conduct our business, and respond when things don’t go our way. What are they learning about Jesus from their experience with us?

We Belong to Christ

In Philippians 1, Paul writes from prison. His future is uncertain, but his reason for living is clear: to live is Christ. Then, in verse 27, he turns from his circumstances to the congregation’s responsibility. Whatever happens to him, they are to live in a manner worthy of the Gospel of Christ.

In his letter, Paul uses the language of citizenship, and that language helps us understand that calling. We have earthly responsibilities, with work to do and neighbors to love. But we belong to Jesus Christ, and our highest allegiance belongs to Him. When those allegiances come into conflict, Christ has the final word.

Now listen, we don’t earn that belonging by passing a performance test. The SpeeDee illustration can only take us so far. We belong to Christ because of His grace. He receives us, forgives us, and makes us His own. Then His grace begins to shape the way we live. Living worthy of the Gospel means living in a way that fits the grace we have received.

But, if we belong to heaven, how do we live here? Paul’s answer reaches beyond private behavior to the life we share.

Stand Together

We tend to make faith a very private matter. My relationship with Jesus. My spiritual growth. My preferences in worship. Each of us does need to respond personally to Christ. Nobody else can make that response for us. But responding to Jesus brings us into a people. We become brothers and sisters with responsibilities toward one another and a mission to share.

Paul wants these believers standing firm together and striving together for the faith of the Gospel. Their unity has a purpose beyond making church a pleasant place to spend Sunday morning.

Imagine a congregation encircling the sanctuary, holding hands in prayer. It is a beautiful image. People who have carried burdens all week stand with people who care. Someone who has felt alone discovers that somebody else knows their name and is praying for them. We need that. There are Sundays when just getting to church is an act of faith.

But what happens if we always face inward? The only people we see are the people already inside the circle. Our needs. Our concerns. Our preferences. Our traditions. Before long, our life together can become organized around keeping everyone inside comfortable.

Now imagine that same circle turning outward. We still stand together. We still pray for one another and carry one another’s burdens. But now we see the lonely neighbor, the family under pressure, the person who has given up on church, and the coworker who has never heard us say anything about Jesus. Our hands remain joined in mission and ministry, but our eyes are open to the people God loves.

Jesus withdrew to pray, then returned to the people. Our fellowship should strengthen our witness. Sometimes we’ve become so concerned about the world getting into the church that we’ve forgotten to get the church into the world.

When we think about our congregation’s future, do we picture only what would make life easier for those already here? Or do we picture the people we have yet to meet and the lives God might touch through us? We don’t have to wait until every question about the future is settled to love the neighbor God has already put in front of us.

Stand Courageously

Following Jesus will sometimes put us at odds with the expectations of people around us. That is a sobering thought because most of us want to be faithful and well liked at the same time. We would like to obey Jesus without creating an uncomfortable moment at the dinner table, in the break room, or among our friends. Sometimes that is possible. Sometimes it isn’t.

Acceptance must never be the condition of our obedience. If it is, eventually we will find something Jesus asks of us that we are unwilling to do.

Fear doesn’t always introduce itself as fear. Sometimes it comes dressed in reasonable language:

“I’m just trying to keep the peace.”

“I’m waiting for the right moment.”

“I don’t want anybody to think I’m being judgmental.”

There are times when waiting is wise. Sometimes we need to listen longer, pray more, or choose a different setting. But here is a question worth bringing before the Holy Spirit: Where have we renamed our fear?

Am I keeping the peace, or avoiding something I know I need to address? Am I waiting for the right moment, or have I decided no moment will ever be right? Am I being gracious, or going along with something that dishonors Christ because I want to fit in?

Courage may mean refusing a dishonest practice, even when it costs us a sale. It may mean speaking up when a conversation turns cruel, even when the people laughing are our friends. It may mean telling someone why our faith matters. And sometimes courage means admitting we were wrong.

“What I did was sinful. I hurt you. I need to ask your forgiveness.”

We can become very bold about everybody else’s failures while remaining strangely quiet about our own.

Courage does not excuse carelessness in the way we treat people. Sometimes truth will offend, even when spoken with love. But somebody’s offense does not automatically prove our faithfulness. We may need to examine our words, our attitude, or our motives. Our aim is faithfulness to Jesus. We speak truthfully, act lovingly, and accept that obedience may still meet resistance. God holds the outcome. We don’t have to win every argument or secure everybody’s approval. Courage is remaining faithful when faithfulness becomes costly.

Stand Faithfully

Paul tells the Philippians they have been granted the privilege of believing in Christ and also of suffering for Him. We understand why forgiveness and eternal life would be described as gifts. But suffering? Most of us would prefer to leave that part of the package unopened.

Paul is speaking specifically about suffering for Christ. Not every hardship is persecution. Some difficulties belong to ordinary life. Some are consequences of our choices. Sometimes people react badly because we have treated them badly. But obedience can carry a cost. An honest decision may cost money. A faithful conviction may cost acceptance. Open allegiance to Christ may strain a relationship.

Difficulty does not mean we have stepped outside God’s care. Faithful discipleship doesn’t mean an easy journey. Jesus called us to take up our cross and follow Him. That does not make pain pleasant or injustice acceptable. We can seek protection, ask for help, and work to correct what is wrong. But when we suffer for His sake, we share in His witness to the world. The One we follow knows rejection and suffering. He will not abandon us. Neither should His people abandon one another.

We need somebody who will pray when our courage wears thin. We need somebody who will remind us of what is true when discouragement starts doing the talking. We need a congregation that will help carry the cost of obedience.

If someone loses income because they refused to be dishonest, our encouragement may need to include practical help. If someone is rejected because of their faith, our fellowship needs to make room for their grief. If someone is exhausted from doing what is right, we need to come alongside them. Standing faithfully is something we help one another do.

Living Like We Belong

Perhaps you already know what faithfulness requires. The uncertainty is about what it will cost. I can’t promise obedience will make the problem disappear. But the cost of faithfulness does not put you beyond the reach of Christ’s grace.

This week, think of one person outside your usual circle whom you could notice, listen to, or serve. Think of one place where fear has been choosing your response. Think of one step of obedience you have delayed because it may be costly.

Bring that person, that fear, or that decision before the Lord. And if you are worn down from trying to remain faithful, let somebody stand with you.

The SpeeDee Performance Certified shirt makes a statement. The service ought to match the shirt.

We belong to Jesus Christ. Our service ought to match the Name we wear. We should live like we belong.

Where is God inviting you to take one faithful step this week?

Until next time, keep looking up…

Finding Joy When Life Isn’t Joyful

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

Philippians 1:12–26

What would have to change in your life for you to have joy? Would the job have to get easier? Would the bills have to get smaller? Would somebody in your family have to straighten up? Would the doctor have to give you a better report?

Some seasons are hard. There are circumstances we would change today if we could. Our faith doesn’t require us to pretend that pain doesn’t hurt. But if joy must wait until everything gets straightened out, we may spend the rest of our lives waiting.

Paul writes to the Philippians as a prisoner. Other people have considerable control over where he goes and what happens next. His future is uncertain. And yet, we hear joy. How does a man in chains write a letter that teaches free people how to live?

In Philippians 1:12–26, Paul offers a perspective to live by, a power to live in, and a purpose to live for.

A Perspective to Live By

Paul tells the Philippians that what has happened to him has actually served to advance the Gospel.

If I were writing that letter, I might begin with how unfair the situation was. I’d probably explain all the things I could accomplish if somebody would just let me out. Paul looks at his circumstances and sees what they have made possible for the Gospel. We see Paul in prison. Paul sees an opportunity to preach.

The men responsible for guarding him are encountering someone whose life belongs to Jesus. Other believers, encouraged by his faithfulness, are speaking God’s message more boldly. His chains restrict his movements, but they put people within reach of his witness.

Paul’s circumstances changed, but his calling did not.

That requires a perspective that can be difficult to maintain. We know what hurts today. We know what we lost. We know what we hoped would happen and what happened instead. We cannot see all that God sees. Sometimes we recognize His hand only in hindsight. Sometimes questions remain unanswered throughout our lives. Trusting God doesn’t mean every painful experience will come with an explanation we understand.

It does give us a question to ask: How will I respond to what I can’t change? Paul keeps looking for ways to bear witness to Christ. He doesn’t have to enjoy his chains to trust that God can work while he is wearing them.

Even when others preach Christ out of rivalry, hoping to make his imprisonment more painful, Paul finds reason to rejoice because Christ is being proclaimed. He recognizes their selfishness, but refuses to let their attitude toward him become more important than the message about Jesus. What matters most to Paul helps determine what he sees.

We don’t pursue joy as the priority of life. We pursue Christ and in so doing discover that joy finds us.

A Power to Live In

Of course, seeing life that way takes more than deciding to have a better attitude. In verse 19, Paul points to the prayers of the Philippians and the provision of the Spirit of Jesus Christ. God’s people are praying, and God’s Spirit is at work.

These believers can’t walk into his confinement and set him free. But they can pray for him. Paul counts on those prayers. Years of preaching, planting churches, and enduring opposition have not made him self-sufficient.

I understand something about that. When I took a sabbatical in 2008, my mother was intentional in praying me through it. She told me she was praying. She also offered a few “Get your rear in gear” speeches along the way. Mom didn’t offer advice often. But when she did, you knew it was important enough to listen to. She cared enough to pray, and she cared enough to challenge me.

I was the pastor. I had spent years praying for other people. During that season, I needed somebody praying for me.

Who is praying you through the season you are in? Have you let anyone know you need prayer? Sometimes we work so hard to look like we have everything under control that others never know the burden we are carrying. And who needs you to pray them through?

Paul joins those prayers with the provision of the Holy Spirit. We Methodists talk about sanctifying grace: God continuing His work in those who belong to Him. As we surrender to Him, His Spirit shapes our desires, strengthens our faith, and enables our obedience.

Paul’s deepest desire is for Christ to be honored in his body, whether he lives or dies. That gives us a prayer for whatever we are facing: “Lord, help me honor You in this.”

We can pray for healing and ask for grace to honor Christ during treatment. We can pray for circumstances to change and ask for courage to be faithful while we wait. We can ask for a door to open and ask the Spirit to show us someone to serve right where we are.

A Purpose to Live For

Paul brings us to the confession at the heart of the passage: “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21).

Try filling in this blank: For me to live is _______.

My family? My job? My investments? Our calendars, our worries, and our decisions sometimes answer that question more honestly than our words do.

Family is a gift. Work matters. Taking care of what has been entrusted to us matters. But can any of those things carry the full weight of our purpose? What happens when the job ends, investments decline, or family no longer needs us in the same way?

Paul belongs to Christ wherever he is. Death means being with Christ. Continued life means fruitful labor: sharing the Gospel and helping others grow in faith and joy. That purpose can carry us through changing seasons. A job may end. Our strength may change. Retirement may remove a familiar answer to the question, “Why do I get up in the morning?” Our purpose in Christ continues.

Life is not meant to be spent in the La-Z-Boy. There’s nothing wrong with resting, and physical limitations can make rest necessary. Our value to God is never dependent on how much we accomplish in a day. But a change in our strength or schedule does not end our belonging to Him. If we have life, we have love to give, prayers to offer, people to encourage, and a Gospel to share.

Think about my mother’s prayers. That was meaningful ministry. Think about Paul’s confinement. He still had a witness to offer. Fruitful labor takes different forms in different seasons.

So, what would have to change for you to have joy?

Perhaps there are things you rightly hope will change. Keep praying about them. In the meantime, ask God to show you one person you can pray for, encourage, or speak with about Christ. Let someone know where you need prayer yourself. We can take those faithful steps today, in the life we already have.

Paul belonged to Christ in that place, on that day, with that uncertain future. So do we.

For me to live is Christ.

Until next time, keep looking up…

If any of my reflections encouraged or challenged you, follow Not the Perfect Pastor on Facebook for more conversations about faith, ministry, and becoming faithful disciples of Jesus.

Forgiveness and Healing: Grace Is Greater Than the Wound

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

When someone wounds us, something inside us begins keeping an account.

They owe me an apology. They owe me an explanation. They owe me the years I lost. They owe me the innocence they took. They owe me the trust they destroyed. They owe me for the humiliation, grief, or pain they caused.

Some of those debts are real. Forgiveness does not say otherwise.

But forgiveness does determine what we will do with the debt.

Paul writes in Ephesians 4:32, “Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.”

The word Paul uses for “forgiving” is charizomai. It comes from the same root as charis, the word we translate as grace. It can mean to give freely, to grant graciously, or to forgive.

Forgiveness, in Paul’s language, is grace in relational form.

It is not primarily a feeling. If we wait until we feel like forgiving, we may wait for the rest of our lives. Forgiveness is a grace-shaped decision concerning what we will do with the debt created by another person’s sin against us.

We decide that we will not spend the rest of our lives trying to collect that debt through bitterness, retaliation, humiliation, or revenge. We release our personal claim to make the other person suffer as payment for what they did, and we place justice into the hands of God.

That does not mean all earthly consequences disappear. It does not mean a crime should go unreported, restitution should never be made, or accountability should be abandoned. Grace and accountability are not enemies. Forgiveness simply means that I refuse to make revenge the organizing purpose of my life.

Forgiveness Tells the Truth

We need to speak carefully about forgiveness because, in our hurry to tell hurting people they need to forgive, Christians have sometimes failed to acknowledge how deeply they were wounded.

Forgiveness is not denying that the wound happened. It is not minimizing the seriousness of the offense. It is not calling evil good. It is not excusing the offender by saying, “They couldn’t help it,” or “It really wasn’t that bad.”

Forgiveness is not forgetting. We sometimes say, “Forgive and forget,” as though faithful Christians should be able to erase painful memories. Human minds do not work that way, and Scripture does not command spiritual amnesia. Some experiences leave marks that remain for a lifetime.

Forgiveness does not automatically restore trust. Forgiveness can be given; trust must be rebuilt through truth, repentance, consistency, and time. Reconciliation may not always be possible, and forgiveness never requires someone to remain in an abusive or unsafe relationship.

Forgiveness does not eliminate consequences. A forgiven person may still lose a position, face legal consequences, or live with a permanently changed relationship. Grace does not erase wisdom, boundaries, accountability, or justice.

These distinctions matter because some people carry not only the pain of what was done to them but also the shame of believing their continued pain proves they have failed to forgive.

Healing is not always immediate. Forgiveness may begin with a decisive act, but with a deep wound it may also require repeated surrender. We may have to place the same hurt into God’s hands more than once.

The capacity of grace to forgive never diminishes the depth of the wound.

Grace is able to tell the whole truth. It can say, “What happened was wrong. It hurt me. It changed something. There were consequences. I did not deserve it.” Grace can say all of that without allowing hatred to have the final word.

Look at the cross. God’s grace never treated sin as insignificant. At the cross, God named the horror of sin and revealed the depth of divine love at the same time. Grace tells the truth about sin—and then demonstrates that sin will not have the last word.

Grace Is Greater

When we say grace is greater than the wound, we are not comparing levels of pain. We are not telling someone, “Your wound should not matter because grace matters more.” We are saying that the sin committed against us does not possess greater power than the grace of Jesus Christ at work within us.

Grace does not make the wound smaller. Grace keeps the wound from becoming greater than Jesus Christ.

Paul does not begin with the person who hurt us, the size of the offense, or the strength of our willpower. He begins with what God has already done for us: “just as God through Christ has forgiven you.”

We do not forgive to earn grace. We forgive because we have received grace. Forgiveness is not the price we pay to be forgiven by God. It is the fruit produced in people who know how much they have already been forgiven.

Grace received becomes grace extended.

We love grace when it moves in our direction. We sing about the grace that forgives our sins and reconciles us to God. We are less enthusiastic when that same grace moves toward those who have wounded us. We want mercy to explain what we did and justice to define what they did. We want the Lord to remember our weakness but remember their wickedness.

Paul does not allow us to separate the grace we receive from the grace we extend. The grace that comes to us through Jesus Christ takes shape in the way we respond to one another.

That is why forgiveness reveals so much about our spiritual formation. It is possible to know the language of grace without being gracious. It is possible to explain forgiveness while refusing to forgive. It is possible to celebrate what Christ has done for us while resisting what Christ wants to do through us.

My capacity to forgive is directly related to the depth of my spiritual formation.

That statement is not intended to shame anyone struggling to forgive. Some wounds are extraordinarily deep, and the path of healing may be long. The struggle itself may become the place where we learn to depend upon grace more deeply than ever before.

If grace is greater than my sin, then grace is greater than the sin of the person who wounded me. And if grace is greater than the sin that wounded me, then grace is greater than the wound that sin left behind.

If grace is greater than my sin, then grace is greater than my wound.

What Is Discipling Us?

The pain of a wound is not an idol, and feeling that pain is not a spiritual failure. But a wound begins to occupy the place that belongs to Christ when it defines who we are, determines how we see others, dictates our decisions, and claims authority over our future.

Before long, we are no longer simply remembering the wound. We are allowing the wound to disciple us.

The wound may be part of my story, but grace refuses to let it become the author of my story. Forgiveness does not rewrite the past. It places the future back into the hands of Jesus.

Nearly thirty years ago, I pastored a church where two men lived in the same community, worked for the same company, and worshiped in the same congregation. Somewhere along the way, a work-related offense created a division between them. I do not remember all the details, and after all these years the details are not really the point.

What I remember is that they never found their way through it.

They continued attending the same church, but they sat on opposite sides of the sanctuary. Week after week, they worshiped the same Lord, heard the same Scriptures, and received the same grace—but the division remained between them.

Both men have now died. I do not tell their story to judge their hearts. Only God knows everything that passed between them. I tell it because their story has stayed with me.

They had moved on with their lives, but it appeared that something between them had never been surrendered to the transforming grace of Jesus Christ.

That is the danger of an unforgiven wound. Life continues. We go to work. We come to church. We sing the hymns and listen to the sermon. From the outside, it may appear that we have moved on. Yet the wound may still be deciding where we sit, whom we avoid, and how far the grace we have received will be allowed to travel through us.

Is there someone I need to forgive? Is there a wound I need to surrender again? Is there a division I have learned to live with that Jesus is calling me to address?

Forgiveness may not restore every relationship. It may not remove every consequence or erase every painful memory. But it refuses to let what happened to us become more powerful in shaping our lives than what Christ has done for us.

The wound may be part of your story, but don’t let it write the ending.

Give Jesus back the pen.

Until next time, keep looking up…

If any of my reflections encouraged or challenged you, follow Not the Perfect Pastor on Facebook for more conversations about faith, ministry, and becoming faithful disciples of Jesus.

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…