Steadfast

 Have you ever wondered why some situations that seem insurmountable in your life were readily conquered while others you thought would be a breeze to get through turned out to be like an albatross around your neck? It wasn’t accidental or coincidental. It had everything to do with where you placed your trust and whom you expected to get you through it.

When a situation arises that seems outside of our ability to deal with, we are more likely to run to God. We are more likely to defer to Him and His will; we are more likely to not lean on our understanding but on His wisdom.

On the other hand, when a situation seems readily solvable, our instinct is to go at it alone, find a remedy by ourselves, and never ask God how He would have us deal with it. We vanquish our Jerichos and get trounced by our Ais, and those of us with the wherewithal to look back on the situation and determine what went right and what went wrong come to the conclusion that in the one case we trusted in the arm of the flesh, and in the other we trusted in the arm of God.

If we don’t learn from our missteps, we will repeat them. Thankfully, if the lesson is painful enough, we will recall it for the rest of our lives. Doing it one time is all it takes to learn that we should never grab a hot pan off the stove barehanded. Every time after that, we are cautious and run to the oven mitt before even thinking about grabbing at the pan. It becomes ingrained in our minds, and we associate the action with the pain it caused and take steps to avoid that pain.

If only we’d take the spiritual lessons we learn along the way to heart in such a fashion, there would be far fewer chronic backsliders in today’s church, but for some reason, we forget the spiritual pain more readily than the physical, and we find ourselves repeating the cycle of our failure over and over again. We remember the momentary pleasure of sin and block out the endless pain it caused so that when we are presented with it again, unless we are watchful, wholly submitted to God, and resist the devil, we fall into the same snare.

James 5:9-11, “Do not grumble against one another, brethren, lest you be condemned. Behold, the Judge is standing at the door! My brethren, take the prophets, who spoke in the name of the Lord, as an example of suffering and patience. Indeed we count them blessed who endure. You have heard of the perseverance of Job and seen the end intended by the Lord – that the Lord is very compassionate and merciful.”

We have enough enemies on the outside, and we don’t need to make new ones on the inside. Somewhere along the way, we lost sight of the real enemy and have broad-brushed everyone who disagrees with us, even on the most tertiary of matters, as our sworn, lifelong, and irreconcilable foes.

James is writing to the brethren. The true brethren, no those pretending to be, and even among them, even back then, there was enough contention wherein it warranted a reminder that they should not grumble against one another lest they be condemned. The operative word in the first sentence of verse nine is brethren. Not false brethren, not wolves, not pretenders who would just as readily watch you drown than lend a hand to pull you out, but actual brethren.

We need constant reminding that we are one body and must operate as such. That does not mean we have to agree on the slightest detail, but it does mean we complement each other and function as one unit. The enemy should be outside the camp. In some instances, he’s crept into the camp as well, and that’s when things get complicated because the first thing the enemy does when he’s infiltrated a congregation is proceed to draw people to his side, form cliques, then drive wedges where none existed prior to his arrival. Then the backbiting gets ramped up, and those who built a given work from its inception, those who labored and bled to see the vision God had placed in their heart come to fruition, are marginalized, vilified, and shunned by those they served for decades.

The whispers of there needing to be a new vision, a new direction, someone younger and more vibrant to take the helm turn into full-throated declarations, and wouldn’t you know it, the wolf in sheep’s clothing, humbled as he pretends to be, throws his hat in the ring and offers to be that one that will lead them to bigger and better tomorrows.

Nobody bothers to ask whether bigger and better is what God had in store or whether that was His will because we’ve been conditioned to believe that they’re synonymous with God’s will, for why wouldn’t He want a bigger budget, a bigger sanctuary, a bigger, grander vision? Because sometimes He doesn’t. God always wants purer; He doesn’t always want bigger. God always wants more obedience, more faithfulness, more humility, and more brokenness; He doesn’t always want a bigger building or a grander vision.

Every time I have pastor friends confide in me about their congregation having turned in a negative direction, every time they ask what they can do to lessen the contention and the acrimony, my first question is who the instigator is. Who is that singular individual who comes to mind from whom the entire drama seems to flow repeatedly and consistently?

Usually, it’s one clear individual, and unsurprisingly, it’s someone who’s only been attending their church for a few months or a couple of years. If God has called a shepherd to shepherd a congregation, if they are rightly dividing the word and their doctrine is biblical, and someone comes along attempting to cause division based on form rather than substance, defend your shepherd, and do not lend your ear to those who would see the wholesale destruction of a body just so they can pick at the leftover pieces.

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.