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Burn Your Resume

A few years ago I did several workshops and a general session at an educator’s convention, and about a month later I got my evaluation back. This convention does its speakers a service by having all attenders fill out evaluations of each workshop they attended. The first number I saw was the group average evaluation for the entire convention and then I saw that mine was lower than the average. I had a response that might surprise you. I laughed. Not because I thought the evaluation was wrong. These are teachers after all, and I think they know good teaching. But I laughed because after I saw the group average for speakers I just assumed my number would be above average. With all the other speakers there, I knew I would be a cut above. I wasn’t. Oh, and they’ve not asked me back either. 😉

Ed Welch in his book, A Small Book About Why We Hide, has a short chapter titled “Resumes Set Afire”. He’s not talking about our actual resumes, the list of education and employers you’ve accrued over the years. No, it’s the resume that we think defines us, where we think we shine. Those things that we think we do better than others that set us apart.

He asks several provocative questions in encouraging us to dismantle them. If we toss them out, “Do some hurt more than others?” If that item weren’t true of you, would that hurt? Yes, yes it would. At least that’s my testimony. And then he asks, “What is left when achievements are gone?”

All four of our adult children are pursuing Christ, and Laura and I are very thankful. I know many dads that were more faithful than me where one or more children are an outlier. They are pursuing lifestyles or habitual sins that grieve their parents. I don’t deserve the children I have, and I would struggle if one of them walked away from God. I think godly children are part of my resume that I would find it difficult to part with.

I have a sense of humor that has been a blessing and a curse. I too often want others to think of me as a funny person. I think I outshine others that way. So if that were stripped away, could I be content? Would Christ be enough?

My opening points out that effective preaching and teaching are important to me. If I received no accolades, would Jesus be enough?

My father-in-law died with Alzheimer’s in 2023. He was a hard worker his entire life. He loved physical labor. Towards the end when he didn’t even recognize family, he would almost cry because he didn’t know what to do if he didn’t have a job–if he couldn’t work. Sometimes our resume is stripped from us. You can think you are a good husband and lose your wife to disease. You can believe you are an effective Christian servant and get fired from your ministry. I know some that have. Those things we think help us shine more than others can be taken away by God, and it’s for our good when he does.

It’s better to burn your resume than have it burned. Where are the areas where you think you shine? Is Christ enough if you’re not a good athlete, a master gamer, a serving spouse, an engaging host, an accomplished investor, a good student, a loving baby Mom, a skilled mechanic, a successful fisherman, or a popular teen? Is it enough that you have Christ?

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Matthew 6:21 (ESV)
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What King David and Philemon have in Common

A friend of mine started a church in Canada years ago that God blessed with many conversions. It became over 500 hundred attenders that were mostly new believers. Laura and I were able to do two marriage conferences there over the years, and it was so encouraging to see how teachable and hungry the people were. Often what we taught was the first time they had ever heard it, and they just assumed that if the Bible says that, they need to obey it. It was so much fun.

This same pastor friend said that one time they started a small group for men struggling with pornography. Again, lots of new believers who don’t know how church is done. They don’t know they are supposed to pretend they don’t struggle with lust. The church announced it and put a sign up on the church bulletin board and MEN SIGNED UP! I cannot imagine that happening in the churches I’ve known. Most Christians are way too private about their spiritual lives, and especially their spiritual failures. Would men sign up at your church where others could see their names?

I’ve been thinking about two passages in the Bible that seem to have a commonality that I never noticed before. Psalm 51 is a familiar psalm that we recognize as David’s song of repentance after his sin with Bathsheba. I’ve read it many times for my own soul’s benefit, and I’ve pointed others to it to encourage repentance.

But recently I thought about it as an example of David’s transparency about a major failure. The superscription says David wrote it after Nathan came to him after he had gone in to Bathsheba. The superscription is not subtle—it doesn’t say that David wrote this after some general failure in his life, but it specifically tells us and anyone who has read it over the years that it was David’s sin with Bathsheba—his adultery and murder.

That is incredibly transparent. We don’t like to admit our failures in specific, and David does here. Think about this: David intended this to be sung about his sin. He didn’t just admit it to a few trusted friends. He wrote a song about it. Why was King David so honest in his confession? Well he was clearly more concerned with repentance than covering up. It’s one reason we know his repentance was genuine.

The second passage was in Philemon where Paul appeals on behalf of the converted slave, Onesimus. In verse 2 Paul says that this letter was also written to Aphia, who was probably Philemon’s wife, and Archippus. Now who is Archippus? He most likely was a church leader either at Colosse or Laodicea.

See what Paul has done? He knew how Philemon should respond to his runaway slave, Onesimus, now that Onesimus is saved and growing. He wanted Philemon to forgive Onesimus. He even claims that he could have commanded Philemon to do this, but he wanted Philemon to do it on his own, not from compulsion (verses 8-9).

But Paul does apply some good pressure on Philemon to choose forgiveness, and one way he does that is by including Archippus as a recipient of the letter. Archippus would know how Paul appealed to Philemon. So this decision wasn’t just between Paul, Philemon, and even Onesimus (who probably brought the letter), but also included Archippus.

Philemon might have liked to consider this by himself, but Paul doesn’t allow that.

The connection between these two passages is transparency. David chose to be honest and open about his sin—can’t get much more open than writing a song about it. And Philemon was forced to be open and honest about his need to forgive Onesimus.

Your spiritual life is not yours alone. The entire church is invested. You should welcome opportunities to be honest about your struggles with sin. That encourages and edifies others and it leads you to humility—always a needed virtue (Jam 4:6). And you should welcome the intrusion of other believers who help you see your sin and plead with you to change. Just-Jesus-and-you Christianity is not biblical Christianity.

I want my church to be full of people that are not hiding their sin. I want them to be so secure in their identity in Christ that they don’t care what others know about them. And I want my church to be full of Christians that are willing, like Paul, to encourage each other to please God. And if I’m going to have a church like that, I need model that in my relationships. A step towards honesty and transparency feels risky, but it is a good step—just look at King David and Philemon.

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Embarrassed of My Embarrassment

January 2024 will be five years since my younger brother died. Jeff was two years younger than me and also mentally disabled. When we were growing up in the ‘70s, it was called mental retardation, but that’s not a helpful description anymore, nor does it seem kind. Jeff was disabled enough that he was never going to be able to live on his own. My parents insisted that Jeff live with them; they took parenting him very seriously, and he lived with them until his death in 2019. He was almost 49. Jeff couldn’t understand the question why? If you asked him about his motivations, he would just repeat the question back to you. Physically, he was fine while we were growing up. Later, sometime after I left the house, Jeff started having seizures. When he died in 2019, it was while he was recovering from a seizure.

Jeff with my kids quite a few years ago.

My older brother was always the better brother to Jeff. I never told him at the time, but I marveled that he never seemed embarrassed by Jeff. As a preteen and teenager I was. Jeff didn’t have Down Syndrome; you couldn’t tell he was disabled by his appearance. But as soon as he spoke, it was obvious—at least it was to 13-year-old me. He wasn’t cool, and while I was never going to be cool, I also didn’t want to stand out in any way. Jeff occasionally stood out, and I thought that made me stand out. It’s embarrassing how sinful my thinking was. I’m embarrassed of my embarrassment then. I didn’t love my brother well. That love he got from our older brother, Bill.

Jeff was hardly the only reason for my embarrassment. I struggled with what I now know the Bible calls fear of man. I still see it in my life, but thankfully I’ve seen growth. For the longest time, I didn’t even know what was going on in my heart.

It was Edward Welch’s book, When People Are Big and God Is Small that first alerted me to this biblical theme. I’m sure others have had the same experience, but as I read it, incidents in my past started to make biblical sense.

Of course how I responded to my brother when I was a teenager came to mind. Also, others. For example, I attended a small seminary and was the president of the student body for a semester. One of my responsibilities was to organize the annual Christmas chapel. I did organize the program, but I recruited other students to actually do it. I didn’t want to be up front if it failed. I cared way too much what others thought of me.

The fear of man brings a snare, But he who trusts in the Lord will be exalted. Prov 29:25

Scripture describes this problem as a trap, and I was trapped. I had lived my life to that point in slavery to the opinions of others. No, that’s not accurate. To the slavery of what I thought might be their opinions. I didn’t even know whether they thought that or not. But the fact that they might think poorly of me was an outcome horrible enough to paralyze me. The most obvious symptom was I didn’t tell others about Christ. What might they think?

For am I now seeking the favor of men, or of God? Or am I striving to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a bond-servant of Christ. Gal 1:10

The Bible also tells me that pleasing God and living for the approval of men are opposites. And that contradiction is why Welch titled his book, When People Are Big and God Is Small. Either God or people are going to be big in your thinking. Whom will it be?

Welch’s book is far more helpful than this short blog could be. He is a fellow sufferer of the fear of man. His vulnerability gives the book authenticity. This one thought—either I fear people or I fear God—has been so helpful to me. It’s invaded my language of confession of sin. It changed how I parented my own kids. We talked about how the fear of man can control us, but we actually want to be controlled by God. Pleasing God must be more important than pleasing others.

But to me it is a very small thing that I may be examined by you, or by any human court; in fact, I do not even examine myself. For I am conscious of nothing against myself, yet I am not by this acquitted; but the one who examines me is the Lord. 1 Cor 4:3–4

Scripture described my problem, and it gave me a way out. Growing in the fear of God chases out every other fear. The Apostle Paul didn’t live for the opinions or values of the world. He knew that only God’s opinion matters.

So what to do? I know this. Since it’s sin, Scripture has a solution. Realizing what Scripture calls it was the beginning of help for me. Seeing its tentacles in my life made me realize that I need God’s sanctifying grace even more than I thought.

May it help you too.

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Should I Pause a Difficult Conversation with My Spouse?

I’ve been asked this question, and I suppose some might say the obvious answer is yes, and that’s often true. A pause can allow both spouses to collect their thoughts. It can be a useful tool to prevent further sinning in a conversation. If we’re not finding a solution, it can give us time to brainstorm other ideas. Those are all good uses of a conversational pause.

But we are sinners and certain dynamics in some marriages make this a more complicated question. A hypothetical Christian couple can do this. However, an actual Christian couple brings their conversational history into it, so they may not be able to do it.

Our sin is so deceptive. We can justify it at times as if it’s actually godliness. So we pause a conversation ostensibly to help us both get control of our emotions and keep from sinning against each other, but maybe it’s actually a way of exiting a difficult conversation when I’m not getting the agreement I want. So I’m claiming the pause is to edify, but it’s actually to control.

Let’s talk about some dangers first.

Dangers:

  • You pause so that you can prove to be the better person.

It’s not your struggle; it’s hers. Beware of anything that puts you in the place of the superior person. Beware of how subtle pride can be. Pride is the sin we are most blind to (1 Cor 10:12; Rev 3:17).

  • It could be a way of controlling the discussion and your spouse.

If you’re the one predominantly calling for the timeouts, it puts you in the driver’s seat. You are controlling if, when, and how you talk about difficult topics. You are a conversational dictator.

  • It can be a way of preventing your spouse from disagreeing with you and/or speaking freely to you.

Any time the conversation gets too personal, or gets too close to your sin, you put a halt to it. You might claim that your spouse is getting upset and it’s for her good. It becomes a conversational weapon rather than a tool to edify.

If you honestly think through your motivations (maybe asking your spouse for her input), and these dangers don’t apply, then consider how best to institute a pause.

Guidelines for Pausing Conversations:

These are just practical tips. I hope they are a help.

  • It’s understood to be an unusual activity. It cannot be a regular discussion tool.

If you cannot get through a difficult conversation with your spouse without pausing, then you probably need the assistance of a wise mentor, pastor, or biblical counselor. Habitually pulling this card will likely be seen as condescending or controlling. You’re ending conversations when you sense sin in your spouse. It’s very convenient because it also allows you to avoid difficult topics that might expose your heart (Mt 15:18; Mk 7:20-23).

  • The process is described beforehand and agreed to by both.

For example, I will raise my hand when I think we might need to pause. The other person talking will stop and give me a chance to explain why I want a pause. If the non-pausing spouse has sinned, they will admit and ask forgiveness.

I’m not necessarily suggesting these; but you need some guidelines for how to pause.

  • No pausing to avoid disagreement. That’s not a reason to pause.

 Just because you don’t like the topic or it is an area of regular disagreement in your marriage, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t talk about it. Those are the types of conversations that spiritually mature couples should be able to have.

  • The person sinning ultimately calls the timeout. Not the person sinned against. And especially not the person presuming the other will sin before they’ve sinned.

If you are consistently pausing when you notice sin in your spouse, it will appear condescending and it probably is. It’s as if you are saying, “I have the discernment to see where you are headed; you don’t. I’m level-headed and you are emotional and headed towards anger.” So you  cut her off before she sins. It’s better for the sinning spouse to call for a pause to avoid further sin.

  • You have to be willing to have difficult conversations with heightened emotions. Your spouse must know that you will let her disagree.

I’m not saying that yelling and name calling are acceptable in a conversation with your spouse. They never are. I am saying that just because one or both of you is passionate/emotional is not a reason to stop talking. You’re different personalities. One of you might get more passionate, but passion alone doesn’t mean we are sinning in how we speak. Follow through as long as it is heading towards a solution.

We have to talk to solve problems. It’s not an option to sweep stuff under the rug. We cannot pretend problems don’t exist. And we must not use pausing a conversation to avoid difficult topics. A pause can be a helpful, occasional tool if we’re honestly trying to edify each other.

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What Does It Mean to Own Your Sin?

My bike got stolen. When I was a kid my Dad bought a new 24” bike for me from Kmart with only a few stipulations. I was supposed to lock it up each night in the garage. This was the era when Huffy made bikes that looked like dirt bikes. Mine was black and had racing numbers on it. It was cool!

Well, I didn’t lock it up every night. I left it in the yard overnight regularly, and one night it disappeared. A second stipulation was that if it got stolen, my dad wouldn’t buy me another one. I was on my own. I spent a summer running everywhere and earning money for a new bike. Finally I had enough to buy a 10-speed. I didn’t lock it in the garage; I brought it into the house, down the stairs, and into the basement every night. Yes, every night. And it never got stolen. I still had it when I went to college. I was responsible for that bike. I owned it. You could say I owned the one that was stolen, but I violated the first rule of ownership—I didn’t take responsibility for it.

What does it mean to own your sin? Someone asked me this. I told them that owning his sin would make his marriage better, and he thoughtfully asked what does that mean?

I’ve also had a Christian not like that word. They told me that their sin doesn’t identify them anymore, and it’s forgiven, so why should they own it? I’m using the word not as an identity statement, but referring to responsibility. Do you take responsibility for your sin?

And I think owning is an illustrative metaphor for that idea. If you own a car, you are responsible for it. You have to make the payments, get the insurance, and get it new tires when it needs them. No one else is responsible for your car, only you. No one else is responsible for your sin, only you are.

Ezekiel taught us this in a graphic way.

“The person who sins will die. The son will not bear the punishment for the father’s iniquity, nor will the father bear the punishment for the son’s iniquity; the righteousness of the righteous will be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked will be upon himself. Ezekiel 18:20 (NASB95)

So if owning my sin is taking responsibility for it, then what are some signs I’m owning my sin?

You Don’t Point Fingers

There is no sin against me that excuses my sin. There are some awful, tragic ways that sinners sin against each other. I’m not dismissing those at all. But I cannot excuse my sin because of someone else’s sin. No sin against you justifies your sin.

So owning my sin means I don’t point fingers at others. I don’t look at their sin against me or their “worse” sin as making mine acceptable.

This is especially tempting in marriage. Families like to point fingers at each other and justify themselves. The husband says he wouldn’t be sarcastic if his wife didn’t embarrass him in front of others. She says she wouldn’t yell if her kids would just do what they’re told. And the kids claim they wouldn’t be so disrespectful if their dad wasn’t so passive. Everyone is pointing fingers at someone else. Every family can become the Spider-man Pointing meme.

So where are you pointing fingers at others?

You Don’t Resent Accountability

We need accountability. We need another Christian to care enough to tell us that we are wrong in a gentle but firm way. We need intervention. We need other believers.

But we don’t like accountability. We don’t want to be asked tough questions. We don’t want others intruding into our lives and expecting us to change. But God expects us to change. He commands intervention (Gal 6).

Accountability doesn’t work if the person being held accountable doesn’t want it. Paul Tripp has said that you cannot hold a runner accountable. They need rebuke. A sinner that owns their sin doesn’t run. They expect to be called on their sin. They hate their sin and want to be rid of it.

The sinner that owns their sin will appreciate, yes appreciate, accountability.

So where are you resisting accountability? Where do you think accountability is good for others, but not for you?

You Don’t Fight Consequences

Often when we fight consequences we are downplaying how serious our sin is. This is why the formerly adulterous husband can cringe when his wife asks where he’s been. This is why the teen who has asked for help with his pornography can still fight losing his phone privileges. This is why the addict can fight giving up his credit cards and cash and living on an allowance.

We all like to believe that when others commit the same sin, their version of it was worse than ours and deserves consequences. But our sin… no way. Why can’t those around you see that you’ve changed and remove the consequences? That’s how we like to think. But when I own my sin, I know there are consequences. And I’m okay with that. I’ve earned them.

Where are you fighting consequences? Where do you think your consequences are too harsh?

You Don’t Completely Forget the Past

The Apostle Paul did tell us that he forgot those things behind (Phil 3:13-14), but he couldn’t have meant that he forgot all about his past at all times. We know this because he’s also the apostle that told us about his life before Christ. His forgetting didn’t mean never remembering it. 

Paul also regularly reminded us of who we were (Eph 2:1-3; Col 1:13, 21, etc.) before Christ. Why would he do that if we’re supposed to completely forget the past?

So the Christian that owns their sin doesn’t completely forget the past. They don’t live in it, but they also know that remembering who they were humbles them. Remembering how they blew it can protect them from it happening again. After all, without God’s grace it could happen again. In your own strength, you are the person that could commit that sin.

Where are you desperately trying to forget the past? Where are you too quick to believe you are not at all that person anymore?

I’m sure there are more signs of owning our sin, but these are enough to challenge me. Do you own your sin?