What’s your personal understanding of “character”?

I appreciate questions.

I guess that’s one reason I still love teaching—I enjoy the challenge of creating an environment that fosters open, frank discussion. I value tough, sincere questions even though I often don’t possess answers.

A few weeks ago during Rich’s Ride I tossed out a statement that prompted quite a few comments:

I think God values our character more than our comfort. Character is a long-term issue, and it’s often developed and tested in uncomfortable settings.

A reader sent a great question. “Character is one of those words we use a lot, and I wonder if we agree on what it means. What is character?”

Hmmm…I thought about it a lot during the ride, and I’d like to see what you think of my ideas.

To me, character development rests on at least three factors:

• Knowledge: understanding the facts of a situation.
• Discernment: determining the right thing to do based on your knowledge.
• Skill: the capacity to do it.

Knowledge: It’s not much use wanting to do what’s right if I have no clue about the situation. Character development requires an open mind, a willingness to learn, and the flexibility to adapt as new information develops.

Discernment: I determine my best understanding of what’s right based on available information, input from those I trust, and my own wisdom based on experience and guidance from the Spirit.

Skill: Knowing what’s right isn’t all that helpful unless I develop the skills required to actually do it.

Character: I see character as the willingness to do what’s right. Character development is the lifelong process of growing in knowledge, discernment, and skill, and intentionally nurturing the habit of doing what’s right.

Some will object that we cannot always know the right response in particular circumstances. I agree. It’s rare that we have access to every scrap of  relevant information. Our discernment is colored by personal bias. We can always refine our skills.

Too often these become excuses for failure to act. So perhaps a more workable definition of character might be doing my best to determine what’s right based on available knowledge, and then doing that right thing to the best of my ability.

Will I frequently get it wrong? Of course. Will I fail at times? Certainly. But the real troubles in my life haven’t happened because I didn’t know what to do.

Almost without exception, the significant issues in my life occur when I KNOW what’s right and don’t do it.

I’d like to hear your responses. Is this what character means to you? What would you add?

Please leave a comment here.

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This article originally appeared February 8, 2011.

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How do you escape the fate of Sisyphus?

One of my first “real” jobs as a kid was a two-week gig at the Iowa State Fair. Each morning I showed up at 6 a.m. A supervisor handed me a sealed metal can with a slot in its top and assigned me to one of the carnival attractions to collect tickets. Twelve never-ending hours in the sweltering Midwest humidity, grabbing tickets and stuffing them through that slot.

My dad got me that job. Every morning he’d deposit me at the gate and say, “Hey, it’s a new day.” I think he wanted me to understand why I needed to study hard and go to college. It worked.

Endless, mindless, purposeless effort, each day exactly like the previous and the next—those two weeks offered a glimpse of the horrible eternal fate to which Sisyphus was condemned.

Renew…really?

The Bible is filled with promises of renewal. Paul writes (2 Corinthians 4), “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.

He also encourages renewal (Romans 12): Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

And I say: please, anything but that! Please don’t make me start over. Please, not another day just like the last, filling the same can with the same tickets from the same faceless, sweaty hands.

I don’t wanna!

If “renewal” literally means going back to the beginning, count me out. I agree with Nicodemus:

Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.”

“How can someone be born when they are old?” Nicodemus asked. “Surely they cannot enter a second time into their mother’s womb to be born!” John 3:3-4

If renewal means starting over, I’d prefer another option. I do not want to do junior high again!

Of course Jesus wasn’t speaking literally. His continued conversation with Nicodemus clearly shows that He’s describing spiritual re-birth.

Circle or Spiral?

Spiritual renewal doesn’t mean going back to the beginning, starting the same journey from the same place. That’s the pointless life of Sisyphus, an endless circle leading nowhere.

God offers the opportunity to start fresh without starting over. Spiritual renewal does involve a new beginning, but it also means starting from an improved foundation.

God’s renewal isn’t a circle; it’s more like an upward spiral. I get to release my biases and regrets, but retain new insights. Jesus invites me to develop increased wisdom and improved discernment—while always approaching God with childlike wonder.

He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 18:2-4

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. 1 Corinthians 13:11-12

Following Jesus means embracing the mystery of becoming like little children while putting aside the ways of childhood.

Renewal—a new beginning without starting over—I’m in!

How about you?

Which is harder for you—becoming childlike or setting aside childish ways?

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Sisyphus

The God Of “Re”

Retreat And Reflect

Harness The Wind

Have you ever actually used a shield?

I’m not sure I ever have, at least not for real. But I’ve seen shields used a lot in movies and never really thought about how to use one until our pastor made an interesting observation a few weekends ago.

It’s almost impossible to use a shield effectively if you’re running away from the enemy.

Picture that in your mind. I suppose it’s technically possible to hold a shield behind you while you flee, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it used like that. A shield works best when you’re facing your enemy head-on.

God’s Armor

One of the well-known passages in the Bible describes putting on the armor of God (Ephesians 6:10-17):

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.

Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

We’re not warned here about a human enemy, but rather about our spiritual enemy. Personally, I’ve always thought about avoiding confrontations with THAT enemy. I’m afraid of him. But this tells me something different.

I’m instructed to stand my ground and stand firm. And then comes that statement about “… the shield of faith that can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.”

I can’t picture blocking those flaming arrows as I turn my back and run in fear. The shield of faith loses its effectiveness.

But when I face the enemy squarely, confront my fear head-on, I can deploy that shield and hold my ground with confidence.

Ironic, isn’t it? Facing my greatest fear also allows me to employ my most effective defense.

But turning toward an enemy who’s shooting flaming arrows at me is scary.

Knowing that it makes sense doesn’t make it much easier.

How can we learn to face the thing we fear so we can stand firm behind the shield of faith?

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Do you think it matters “why” you do the right thing?

Training for Rich’s Ride is teaching me a lot. If nothing else, riding mostly alone for 3-4 hours per day provides a lot of time to think.

I thought I knew about getting in shape. There’s a process—you do certain things, follow the steps, and eventually you reach your goals. But I’ve never trained for this kind of long-term endurance event. I’m discovering that doing the training, following the steps, is really not the biggest part of the battle.

The hardest aspect of this kind of training is mental. I’m finding that I need to change how I perceive what I’m doing.

I remind myself several times during each workout why I’m doing the work. I want to honor God, serve others, share my story. The exercise is a means to an end; it’s not the end.

You may think it doesn’t matter what I’m thinking as long as I get the workout done, but I’m finding that it matters a lot. When I forget the foundations, exercise becomes drudgery, a series of expected behaviors I “have to” complete. All I want is to get done. The joy vanishes and workouts become self-imposed rules I “have to” follow.

That might work for a short period, but over time frustration builds and motivation lags. I begin seeking shortcuts and excuses, or I do the work half-heartedly so I can check it off the list. That’s not a formula for long-term success.

Look at the previous three paragraphs. Change the context. Replace “exercise” with your job, church, quiet time, marriage, friendship, family time, or whatever adds long-term quality to your life.

• Have you reduced an essential area of life to a perfunctory set of behaviors?
• Are you experiencing a sense of “have to”?
• Are you conforming to rules or formulas?
• Are you fulfilling the “letter of the law” or the spirit behind it?

He has made us competent as ministers of a new covenant—not of the letter but of the Spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life. 2 Corinthians 3:6

I always thought religion was about a long list of rules, things you should do and shouldn’t do—mostly things you shouldn’t do. And I was right. That’s what religion is about.

But following Jesus is something entirely different. He doesn’t want me to change my behavior, He wants to change ME. He doesn’t want me to conform to some code. He wants me to allow Him to transform my heart.

The letter kills. The Spirit gives life.

Has “letter” replaced “Spirit” in some important aspect of life? What needs to change?

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Have you ever been at a place where you thought you just couldn’t keep going?

I was cranking up a long hill last week. I felt hot and tired and thirsty, and the shade from that big tree looked awfully inviting. It felt like I couldn’t possibly make it to the top without stopping.

Internal dialogue:

Me: I can’t make it. I gotta stop and rest. I can’t keep going.

Some other voice, probably a long-forgotten junior high gym teacher: Keep going. It’s all in your head.

Guess what—junior-high-gym-teacher-voice was right. How do I know? Because I kept going and made it to the top.

So here’s the question: What exactly was in my head? The adversity was real. The sweat, thirst, aching muscles—those certainly were NOT in my head. But something far more destructive inhabited my mind, a pattern of thought that prevents me from riding as well as I’m physically capable.

I quit much too easily, not just in cycling but in life. I’m too quick to say “it’s hopeless,” throw up my hands in despair, and surrender. Somewhere along the line I learned to simply fold at the first sign of trouble.

I’m not sure I’m alone in this self-defeating thought pattern. Seems like it’s pretty common to stop halfway up the hill.

I hope this doesn’t sound like a “just suck it up” message. Certainly there are times when we reach the end of our ability to continue. I’ve been there a time or two, nowhere to turn, no more strength, end of the rope, no strength left to even tie a knot.

When you really can’t find a way forward, that’s when God shows up. When I really was hopeless, I kept going only through God’s grace. In fact, that’s the story of Relentless Grace. I had nothing left, and God provided.

But honestly, most of the time when I say “I just can’t keep going” it’s just like that day on the hill. It’s hard and I’m tired and I want an easier, more comfortable way to reach the top.

When that happens, I think God says, “Keep going. It’s all in your head.”

You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds. Ephesians 4:22-23

I sense that He wants me to change those old thought patterns, to stop quitting when it’s difficult, to develop my character by facing my fears and pushing through adversity. I think He wants me to stop settling for “easy” and “safe.” I think He wants me to climb the hills I encounter in life because that’s how I get stronger.

I wonder what mountains I might conquer if I really trusted that He’d support me when I expended everything.

What do you think? Where are you stopping halfway up the hill?

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Are you a “people watcher”?

Yesterday Becky and I did a nice holiday bike ride on the wonderful Fort Collins trails.

One fun aspect of city bike trails is the variety of fellow travelers, especially on a holiday. You see every possible configuration, from serious athletes to families enjoying a leisurely morning in the Colorado sunshine.

I’m usually not much of a “people watcher.” Becky would say I’m sort of oblivious. Normally I pay more attention to the surroundings and my own workout, but yesterday for some reason I was especially aware of the spectrum of folks we encountered. I’ve been thinking about it ever since because of the superficial judgments I formed about them.

This guy had a scowl on his face—probably a bad attitude. That lady has a really friendly-looking dog—she’s probably nice. That guy should take better care of HIS dog—he’s not very thoughtful.

Do you do stuff like that?

I even judged people based on exercise styles. Runners with a relaxed, efficient stride are somehow kind and generous. Those who run poorly, all tight and struggling, must be angry or at least not very smart. Cyclists didn’t escape my inadvertent internal scale, and they even got evaluated based on equipment. Too fancy—must be trying to impress, probably compensating somehow.

I wasn’t aware as I was categorizing these complete strangers, and that’s what bothers me. If I form such unfair judgments on a bike trail, I’m pretty sure I do it in other situations as well.

That guy with the scowl? Maybe he just lost his job, or his wife’s sick. I didn’t consider those possibilities.

I’m not very proud of my ride yesterday. I guess it’s not a big deal—I really didn’t hurt anyone or anything, right? Does it matter?

In Matthew 25:34:46, Jesus talked to some folks who asked a similar question.

“They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

“He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’”

I guess it matters.

Am I the only one who makes these sorts of superficial judgments? Any hints for avoiding this negative habit?

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Am I the only one who finds the following passage … uh … confusing?

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds. James 1:2

I don’t know about you, but I don’t normally associate “facing trials” with “pure joy.”

I can face trials if I have to. I can whine, grit my teeth, get through it, maybe even grin and bear it.

But I don’t think of joy as part of the deal when adversity comes along.

James 1:2 is one of those verses I sort of dismiss. Maybe he meant it for them, back then, but surely I’m not really supposed to jump for joy when adversity drops onto my path.

So …

I know I’m not supposed to just ignore the parts of the Bible I don’t like. So how do I reconcile seemingly contradictory notions of adversity and joy?

I’ve been thinking about training, the process of getting physically and spiritually fit. I was cranking along this morning when I realized something.

I see a lot of people exercising—riding, running, and walking. And you can just tell which ones are there because they want to and which ones feel like they have to. I see some of them daily, and today I recognized what’s missing.

Whether it’s in a gym or on a bike path, for some folks every workout is absolute drudgery. They do the work, but it’s all about obligation. They’re missing the joy.

Joy—it’s different than fun or happiness, though I’m not exactly sure how to define the distinction. When I’m cranking along and I’m hot and tired and sweating, I don’t think about pleasure. I can’t claim that I enjoy the pain of an intense workout while it’s occurring.

But there is a sense of joy and satisfaction and peace that comes with choosing to intentionally endure the discomfort of physical exercise. And I think that’s the sort of joy James is describing.

Spiritual exercise

I wonder if I approach my spiritual “workouts” with the same sense of anticipation that accompanies my cycling. Attending church on a beautiful morning, studying, praying, meeting my small group—I do those things, but how much flows from obligation and responsibility? How much am I “getting through” them so I can get on to other, more pleasant stuff?

Using the training analogy, I’m developing habits during my workouts. Those habits will emerge when the real trials, the adversity I don’t expect, drops into my path.

So if I bring minimal joy to the workouts, I guess I can’t expect to experience much joy—peace, contentment, satisfaction—in the midst of the real game.

My coaches always told me, “You play like you practice.” Perhaps that’s what James is saying as well.

Maybe I need to practice better.

What tips can you offer to help us make our “spiritual workouts” more joyful?

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… is that there isn’t one.

How did you respond to the “end of the world” predictions last week?

I couldn’t decide whether to chuckle or cry.

My personal inclination was humor. I joked about not paying bills, taking an insanely expensive vacation on credit—the sort of silliness that’s born of simply not taking something seriously.

But I read about folks who DID take it seriously, who were misled and scammed in a variety of ways. People made horrible, life-destroying decisions based on a terrible lie. I’m sad that they were so easily misled; it’s difficult to poke fun at that kind of weakness.

Why do “they” fall so quickly into these kinds of traps? A nice, comfortable question—except that it’s not “they.” I’m certainly guilty of seeking the formula, the right way, the easy answer. I suspect I’m not the only member of that circle.

Snake Oil

Self-help books, magic medications, revolutionary diets or workout programs—someone always has the new treatment, the hidden recipe, or the innovative method that unlocks the door to whatever we’re after.

Christians aren’t immune. Sadly, churches and individual preachers have preyed upon desperate, vulnerable believers with all kinds of lies, false teachings, and “personal” revelations. Whether they seek power, control, or financial gain, these “leaders” mislead people into a false sense of how God operates—frequently with an “800” number on the TV screen for donations.

The Bible isn’t a book of secrets and codes. God didn’t hide the key to His word inside some magic cipher to be decrypted by His chosen messenger. He gave His word to everyone, and He sent His Word to everyone—no mystery decoder rings required.

I don’t know Harold Camping or his motives. I don’t know if he sought to profit in some way from his misguided predictions. Perhaps he sincerely believes his words—if so, it’s sad, because he’s sincerely wrong.

Dangerous Sincerity

That’s the thing about sincerity—you have to be careful not to confuse it with truth. The men who crashed airplanes into buildings on 9/11 sincerely believed they were doing God’s will—and they were sincerely, horribly, tragically wrong.

Those folks who want to peddle the secret to life—many are hucksters, scam artists selling snake oil. Some may sincerely believe in what they’re selling. Doesn’t matter.

The secret to life is…there ain’t one. There’s no formula, and what worked yesterday may not work today.

There’s no “easy” button.

We were designed for relationships and for love. If you want my formula for perfect, never-failing, always-intimate relationships, just send $19.95 to …

Or talk to God. He designed relationships—and us. He might have some ideas about working them out.

What’s one area of life in which you tend to seek a formula that probably isn’t there?

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Has the gospel changed you—how?

I love my small group.

We get into amazing, deep, authentic discussions. We ask questions to which there aren’t necessarily any right answers, and it’s okay. I think we’re blessed to spend time together each week.

Last night we encountered this question: How has the gospel changed you? However, there was an interesting twist—the question focused on outward change, behaviors and attitudes that others could see and observe and recognize as somehow different.

In Matthew 5, Jesus tells us we’re supposed to be the light of the world. Then He says we’re like a city built on a hill—everyone sees it, it can’t be hidden.

It’s a pretty clear image. When people look for Jesus, they see you and me. We are that city on the hill.

I don’t know about you, but for me that’s not an especially comforting thought. I tossed and turned a few times wondering how much light I’m contributing to the city.

It’s a big responsibility—being the light of the world seems like almost a full-time job.

I know the gospel, the good news of Jesus, has changed my heart. But how has it changed me in ways others can see? Am I kinder or gentler? Am I more patient, generous, peaceful, or loving?

I need to think about that, because I don’t think Jesus’ call to be a city on a hill is metaphorical. I think He wants us to be in communities that look and act differently, that reflect His light, because we’ve been changed by the gospel.

How has the gospel changed you—outwardly?

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Do you enjoy the feeling of success?

Earlier this week, the University of Connecticut won the NCAA men’s college basketball tournament. Maybe you’re a fan, maybe not. But if you’re a college basketball coach, this is as good as it gets.

At age 68, Jim Calhoun is the oldest coach to ever win the championship. He’s battled health issues, and many speculated that he might retire. His post-game comments didn’t leave much room for debate.

“I intend to continue teaching and coaching basketball as long as that fire and that edge remains. When I lose that edge, I’ll know it’s time to quit.”

Someone asked about the nature of “that edge.” Where does it come from?

“That’s easy,” Calhoun replied. “It’s fear. You fear failure more than you seek success. When you lose that fear of failure, it’s time to quit.”

I think that’s incredibly sad.

I heard an interview the following day in which Calhoun expanded on his thoughts. He believes every big-time coach, and in fact every person who achieves great success in any highly competitive field, is primarily motivated by fear of failure.

He said he’s talked with leaders in business, politics, academics, and (sadly) religion. He believes that those who succeed at the highest levels are driven first and foremost by fear of failure.

I hope he’s wrong, but I suspect there’s too much truth in his words.

Fear is probably our most powerful motivator, at least in the short term. Figure out how to create enough fear and you can get people to do just about anything. Fear gets results.

What’s wrong with that?

If it works, if it creates success, wins championships, and gets you to the top, why is that a bad thing? What’s a little fear if it gets you where you want to go in the end?

I’m wrestling with fear this week. More about the specifics tomorrow, but for me it boils down to one simple fact: fear is always short-term. Fear tells me to ignore long-term consequences. Fear says there’s no right or wrong, there’s only whatever diminishes the immediate fear.

Fear is the enemy’s tool. He desperately wants us to focus on immediate results.

The opposite of fear is …

… courage? That’s close; courage is the will to do what right in the face of fear, but the Bible seems to say that the roots of courage spring from something deeper.

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. 1 John 4:18

Fear is short-term, love is eternal. Love values principles and long-term consequences. Love completely ignores immediate self-interest.

Whenever I act based on fear, I’m playing the enemy’s game with the enemy’s rules. It’s exactly what he wants, because he understands the simple truth.

Even when I win, I lose.

Are you facing fear right now? What’s the immediate temptation? You can leave a comment here.

Tomorrow: Keeping it real–what it looks like when you bring this to a real decision in your own real world.

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