(by Paul Coughlin)
The people to whom I provide individual instruction have noticeable talents and abilities. Many are more talented than they realize, more talented than they will allow themselves to admit. For example, one popular Christian speaker has a potent testimony about the power for forgiveness, but she’s unable to spread her life-changing message to more people because of her spiritual education. She was told throughout childhood that believers should shun accomplishment in order to remain humble and avoid becoming prideful. Her success in ministry is causing her great internal turmoil, the main reason she hasn’t been in public for some time now. Her well-meaning but naïve and destructive life-script has stopped her from sharing sparkling insights that set people free from hatred and bitterness.
Yes, these people have noticeable talents and abilities. But, of course, so do their peers. The fearful and the timid compete for jobs and spouses with one hand tied behind their back. They possess a self-handicap. They won’t allow themselves to live successfully, in large part because they don’t think God wants them to be successful.
These nice Christians who grew up as nice kids don’t finish last—that’s a common misconception that blurs the real problem. Nice Christians finish in life’s frustrated middle, never getting to abundance, filled with inner angst, always playing defense, and usually filling out divorce papers at least once (sometimes more) during their beleaguered lifetime. Some never get to marriage because they’re so nice as to be unattractive to potential spouses. Their passive approach toward life often leads them to the passive worlds of fantasy and pornography.
I’ve instructed attorneys, doctors, landscapers, even a Sunday school teacher whose students would not respect him. Each is thoughtful, considerate, and warm. Many possess abilities that others crave. Yet each has a soul controlled by timidity, fear, and anxiety.
They usually hadn’t much considered their backgrounds and experiences until their lives fell apart. They didn’t seek or find help before they fell in love, married, had children, a mortgage, ailing parents. There were warning signs, but they didn’t see them or, more commonly, refused to see them, until the amassed pressure they felt was so powerful they could nearly forge diamonds from it. In many ways, the foundation of their adulthood crash was laid, brick by well-meaning brick, by what they were told as children about God.
Take Lynn Hybels, who along with her husband, Bill, started Willow Creek Community Church in 1975, today one of the nation’s most innovative ministries. In her book Nice Girls Don’t Change the World, she describes a spiritual heritage that unintentionally makes children timid and passive, kids who do not make the world a better place. They are handicapped adults and ineffective Christians.
Hybels grew up in a small Michigan town and attended church regularly. She heard preaching that was “pretty much hellfire and brimstone. I heard a lot about sin and punishment, guilt and shame.”
Her training gave her “an uncanny ability to keep almost everybody happy almost all the time,” thought she didn’t truly seem happy herself. As a little girl, she was always smiling, though she doesn’t remember ever hearing herself laugh. No one would have ever accused her of being “wildly in love with life,” but she had “such a nice smile.” She remembers being a very caring person, “though in a passive sort of way.” She was “not the type to turn the world upside down.”
She always felt God was judging her and making her conform to a list of rules.
At age ten I traded my ballet slippers for a flute because I had been taught that dancing was a sin but making music was an acceptable form of worship…If there were rules to follow, I followed them. If there were pleasures to give up, I gave them up. If there was work to do, I did it. I was determined to earn God’s love.
She received the kind of education that derails adult life. She eventually grew despondent, exhausted, and depressed.
I was 39 years old when I walked into my counselor’s office and said, “I’ve been working so hard to keep everybody else happy, but I’m so miserable I want to die.” I spent the decade of my forties digging out of that hole. Now, nearly midway through my fifties, I’ve discovered that growing up is an ongoing process—I have no yet arrived. Still, I have learned some things on the journey to becoming a good woman.
Part of this spiritual journey was figuring out what her gifts were—and what they weren’t. She made halfhearted stabs to bring her life more in line with her gifts, but her training interfered with her ability to forge a more God-glorifying life. True to her nice Christian girl script, she didn’t ask for help and, though she was surrounded by insightful and helpful Christians, she made sure not to inconvenience others with her frustrations or doubts, and she felt obligated to do whatever others asked her to do—regardless of whether or not she could do it well.
Lynne Hybels, a dyed-in-the-wool Christian Nice Girl, spent decades ignoring, neglecting, and denying her true gifts and passions, which drained her of the very vitality to which her husband was first drawn. She felt “incompetent and insecure. So my husband didn’t win” either. Nor did her children. “They didn’t get a joyful mother. They didn’t get a fun mother. They didn’t get to see, up close and personal, a woman fully alive in God.”
Like so many believing adults with a similar upbringing, she knew what she should do but lacked the backbone to do it.
God gave me a unique perspective and worthy dreams. God gave me words and influence to use for good. But I didn’t use them. I didn’t show up. I might have been there physically, but my gifts—my soul—didn’t show up. I didn’t value what I had to offer enough to actually offer it.
She wasn’t showing up and she didn’t value her talents because she struggled mightily to overcome fear, as every person does when she receives her spiritual legacy. Fear lies to us, concealing the truth about who we are, the gifts we possess, and the goodwill of other people. Fear says we’re too dumb or too amateurish or too wimpy to carry out the good works God puts before us. Fear, Hybels says, told her she “might as well give up.”
Listen to her hard-won insights into the difference between a nice Christian girl and a good Christian woman:
Whereas a girl of any age lives out the script she learned as a child—a script too often grounded in powerlessness—a woman acknowledges and accepts her power to change, and grow, and be a force for good in the world.
Whereas a nice girl tends to live according to the will of others, a good woman has only one goal: to discern and live out the will of God.
A good woman knows that her ultimate calling in life is to be part of God’s plan for redeeming all things in this sin-touched world.
A good woman knows she cannot be all things to all people, and she may, in fact, displease those who think she should just be nice. She is not strident or petty or demanding, but she does live according to conviction. She knows that the Jesus she follows was a revolutionary who never tried to keep everyone happy.
That picture of a good woman made me want to be one. It made me want to grow up and trade the innocuous acceptability of niceness for the world-changing power and passion of true goodness.
Lynne Hybels went outside the advice many Christians receive at church, and it restored her life. After much grappling—which included realizing that for many years her children and husband had not gotten the kind of mother or wife she wished she was—she came out the other end of her training with a new approach toward life.
I’m happy for her, even though I also wish she didn’t have to go through her ordeal. She emerged on the other side wiser and stronger. But others with her spiritual heritage aren’t so fortunate. They struggle through a life that to them is serial disappointment and unending frustration. This is what can happen when someone receives that kind of “nice Christian upbringing.”
Source: crosswalk
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Why Happiness Isn't a Feeling
(by J.P. Moreland)
Just after Jesus told his disciples who he was and what path lay before Him, He gave them — and us — the key to human prosperity.
If anyone wishes to come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life shall lose it; but whoever loses his life for my sake shall find it. For what will a man be profited, if he gains the whole world, and forfeits his soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul? (Matthew 16:24-26)
Christ invites us to follow Him, but warns that losing our lives is the first step. It's an invitation to happiness. But what exactly is happiness, and how do we obtain it?
According to ancient thought, happiness is a life well lived, a life that manifests wisdom, kindness and goodness. For the ancients, the happy life — the life we should dream about — is a life of virtue and character. Not only did Plato, Aristotle, the Church Fathers and medieval theologians embrace this definition, but Moses, Solomon and (most importantly) Jesus did, too. Sadly their understanding is widely displaced by the contemporary understanding of happiness defined as pleasure and satisfaction, a subjective emotional state associated with fleeting, egocentric feelings.
Consider the differences:
Contemporary Understanding
Happiness is:
1. Pleasure and satisfaction
2. An intense feeling
3. Dependent on external circumstances
4. Transitory and fleeting
5. Addictive and enslaving
6. Irrelevant to one's identity, doesn't color the rest of life and creates false/empty self
7. Achieved by self-absorbed narcissism; success produces a celebrity
Classical Understanding
Happiness is:
1. Virtue and character
2. A settled tone
3. Depends on internal state; springs from within
4. Fixed and stable
5. Empowering and liberating
6. Integrated with one's identity, colors rest of life and creates true/fulfilled self
7. Achieved by self-denying apprenticeship to Jesus; success produces a hero
How can we be certain Jesus is inviting us to a classical understanding of happiness in Matthew 16:24-26? He isn't talking about going to heaven rather than hell, nor is He telling his followers how to avoid premature death. Where Matthew writes, "what will a man be profited, if he gains the whole world, and forfeits his soul" (emphasis added), Luke clarifies Jesus' teaching by replacing "his soul" with the word "himself" (Luke 9:25). The issue is finding one's self vs. losing one's self. More specifically, to find one's self is to find out how life ought to look like and learn to live that way; it's to become like Jesus, with character that manifests the fruit of the Spirit and the radical nature of Kingdom living; it's to find out God's purposes for one's life and to fulfill those purposes in a Christ-honoring way.
Eternal life as defined in the New Testament isn't primarily about living forever, it's about having a new kind of life, a new quality of life so distinct that those without it can, in a real sense, be called dead. It's life lived the way we were made to function, a life of virtue, character and well being lived for the Lord Jesus.
We were meant to live dramatic lives of goodness, truth and beauty. We're called to be dramatic in the "little" details of our "ordinary" lives, for even little details and ordinary activities become big and extra-ordinary in the light of true happiness. Such a life makes the presence or absence of contemporary happiness simply beside the point and not worth worrying about.
Self-denial doesn't mean living without money, goods, recognition or any of the things that bring pleasure and satisfaction, but it implies that these things can't be your goal. Neither does self-denial require putting yourself down or disliking yourself. Jesus said, "Take up your cross." Taking up your cross means refusing to be your own central concern. It means living for God's Kingdom, finding your place in His unfolding plan and playing your role well. Taking up your cross means giving your life to others for Christ.
A Critical Choice
The classical and contemporary notions of happiness produce radically different kinds of people. It's here that the difference between the two shakes us to the core and demands we make a lifestyle choice. This choice is as important as any we will ever make.
If we aim our lives at pleasure and satisfaction (see row one), we'll spend all our time looking inside ourselves, constantly taking our happiness temperatures. Our activities and relationships will become means to our own feelings, ceasing to serve anything higher or other than ourselves. This sort of life leads to narcissism.
If, on the other hand, virtue and godly character are our goals, we will learn to see ourselves in light of a larger cause — the outworking of God's plan in history. We'll be preoccupied with finding our role in that cause and playing it well. We'll passionately see life's activities as occasions to draw near to God and become more like Him. We'll hunger to become people who make life better for those around us. Our long-term focus will be on giving ourselves to others for Christ.
It's critical that we understand the nature of Jesus' assertion that we only gain our lives when we lose them for His sake. Jesus isn't commanding us to do anything. He's simply describing reality. He's accurately characterizing the way we're made, telling us how we prosper (or perish) as image-bearers of God. His assertion is like saying "If you want to be fit, you've got to exercise." This isn't a recommendation; exercise isn't one among many ways to get in shape. This is an accurate description of fitness. Being rooted in reality, it describes the path you have to take if you want to be fit.
If you want to be a fit person, exercise isn't optional; if you want to be a happy person, denying yourself for Christ isn't optional. And this isn't true simply for believers. It's true for all of us, whether we believe it or not. As secular scholar John Gardner acknowledged, "Existence is a strange bargain. Life owes us little; we owe it everything. The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose."1 If you want to flourish as a friend, you need to concentrate on others. You'll be lonely if you spend all your time trying to convince people that you're really cool, worthy of their focused attention. Similarly, if you want to flourish as a person, you must deny yourself for Christ's sake. Only by taking this path — only by rejecting the contemporary notion of happiness — will you find true happiness.
Just after Jesus told his disciples who he was and what path lay before Him, He gave them — and us — the key to human prosperity.
If anyone wishes to come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life shall lose it; but whoever loses his life for my sake shall find it. For what will a man be profited, if he gains the whole world, and forfeits his soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul? (Matthew 16:24-26)
Christ invites us to follow Him, but warns that losing our lives is the first step. It's an invitation to happiness. But what exactly is happiness, and how do we obtain it?
According to ancient thought, happiness is a life well lived, a life that manifests wisdom, kindness and goodness. For the ancients, the happy life — the life we should dream about — is a life of virtue and character. Not only did Plato, Aristotle, the Church Fathers and medieval theologians embrace this definition, but Moses, Solomon and (most importantly) Jesus did, too. Sadly their understanding is widely displaced by the contemporary understanding of happiness defined as pleasure and satisfaction, a subjective emotional state associated with fleeting, egocentric feelings.
Consider the differences:
Contemporary Understanding
Happiness is:
1. Pleasure and satisfaction
2. An intense feeling
3. Dependent on external circumstances
4. Transitory and fleeting
5. Addictive and enslaving
6. Irrelevant to one's identity, doesn't color the rest of life and creates false/empty self
7. Achieved by self-absorbed narcissism; success produces a celebrity
Classical Understanding
Happiness is:
1. Virtue and character
2. A settled tone
3. Depends on internal state; springs from within
4. Fixed and stable
5. Empowering and liberating
6. Integrated with one's identity, colors rest of life and creates true/fulfilled self
7. Achieved by self-denying apprenticeship to Jesus; success produces a hero
How can we be certain Jesus is inviting us to a classical understanding of happiness in Matthew 16:24-26? He isn't talking about going to heaven rather than hell, nor is He telling his followers how to avoid premature death. Where Matthew writes, "what will a man be profited, if he gains the whole world, and forfeits his soul" (emphasis added), Luke clarifies Jesus' teaching by replacing "his soul" with the word "himself" (Luke 9:25). The issue is finding one's self vs. losing one's self. More specifically, to find one's self is to find out how life ought to look like and learn to live that way; it's to become like Jesus, with character that manifests the fruit of the Spirit and the radical nature of Kingdom living; it's to find out God's purposes for one's life and to fulfill those purposes in a Christ-honoring way.
Eternal life as defined in the New Testament isn't primarily about living forever, it's about having a new kind of life, a new quality of life so distinct that those without it can, in a real sense, be called dead. It's life lived the way we were made to function, a life of virtue, character and well being lived for the Lord Jesus.
We were meant to live dramatic lives of goodness, truth and beauty. We're called to be dramatic in the "little" details of our "ordinary" lives, for even little details and ordinary activities become big and extra-ordinary in the light of true happiness. Such a life makes the presence or absence of contemporary happiness simply beside the point and not worth worrying about.
Self-denial doesn't mean living without money, goods, recognition or any of the things that bring pleasure and satisfaction, but it implies that these things can't be your goal. Neither does self-denial require putting yourself down or disliking yourself. Jesus said, "Take up your cross." Taking up your cross means refusing to be your own central concern. It means living for God's Kingdom, finding your place in His unfolding plan and playing your role well. Taking up your cross means giving your life to others for Christ.
A Critical Choice
The classical and contemporary notions of happiness produce radically different kinds of people. It's here that the difference between the two shakes us to the core and demands we make a lifestyle choice. This choice is as important as any we will ever make.
If we aim our lives at pleasure and satisfaction (see row one), we'll spend all our time looking inside ourselves, constantly taking our happiness temperatures. Our activities and relationships will become means to our own feelings, ceasing to serve anything higher or other than ourselves. This sort of life leads to narcissism.
If, on the other hand, virtue and godly character are our goals, we will learn to see ourselves in light of a larger cause — the outworking of God's plan in history. We'll be preoccupied with finding our role in that cause and playing it well. We'll passionately see life's activities as occasions to draw near to God and become more like Him. We'll hunger to become people who make life better for those around us. Our long-term focus will be on giving ourselves to others for Christ.
It's critical that we understand the nature of Jesus' assertion that we only gain our lives when we lose them for His sake. Jesus isn't commanding us to do anything. He's simply describing reality. He's accurately characterizing the way we're made, telling us how we prosper (or perish) as image-bearers of God. His assertion is like saying "If you want to be fit, you've got to exercise." This isn't a recommendation; exercise isn't one among many ways to get in shape. This is an accurate description of fitness. Being rooted in reality, it describes the path you have to take if you want to be fit.
If you want to be a fit person, exercise isn't optional; if you want to be a happy person, denying yourself for Christ isn't optional. And this isn't true simply for believers. It's true for all of us, whether we believe it or not. As secular scholar John Gardner acknowledged, "Existence is a strange bargain. Life owes us little; we owe it everything. The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose."1 If you want to flourish as a friend, you need to concentrate on others. You'll be lonely if you spend all your time trying to convince people that you're really cool, worthy of their focused attention. Similarly, if you want to flourish as a person, you must deny yourself for Christ's sake. Only by taking this path — only by rejecting the contemporary notion of happiness — will you find true happiness.
No Offense
(by Suzanne Hadley)
"No offense, but ..."
Nothing puts me on edge like those three words. What follows is never pleasant.
No offense, but you have a lot of zits. [Read: Someone should tell you your face is hard to look at.]
No offense, but your name is kind of old-fashioned. [Read: I think your name is dumb.]
No offense, but you just don't have the experience for the role. [Read: You are a talentless wannabe who could never compete with the likes of me.]
What someone means when they say "no offense," is that they are about to offend you ... badly. The thing is, offense rarely presents itself in such an overt way.
Many times it's a statement that hits us wrong or an action we find inconsiderate. It's a presumption someone makes or an assumption we make or an assumption we make about a presumption someone else makes.
Basically, it's pretty easy to get offended.
I've seen this concept at work in my own life. Several years ago I had a blowout with a friend. We were working on a project together and had a major disagreement about how to proceed. He assumed I didn't trust him; I assumed he didn't care about my feelings. We both took offense.
Two months later we sat at a restaurant booth, working out the final threads of that conflict. That experience had a happy ending, because we were able to discover what went wrong before our relationship disintegrated. We recognized that neither one of us had intended to offend. It had just happened.
Insult Me, Please
We live in a world where people seem to want to be offended.
Last week I accidentally pulled out in front of someone in a parking lot. Even though we were both driving slowly and there was little chance of an accident, he shook his fist at me and yelled something I couldn't hear but assumed was not complimentary. He was offended.
When you think about it, the root of offense is pride. Someone does something that seems disrespectful or degrading, and my "I deserve better" alarm goes off. If my expectation is that people are out to wrong me, I will read every action or word as a potential insult.
I know people like this. I've been like this.
The thing is, I am not supposed to be offended for myself. Jesus said, "Bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you" (Luke 6:28). As a Christ-follower, I am not to be overly concerned about my rights or the way I'm being treated.
The principles of God's kingdom promote a different way. 1 Corinthians 13:5 says love "is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs." Love is not easily offended, nor does it give offense. In fact, these things stand in the way of love — the trademark of the Christian life (1 Peter 4:8).
Proverbs says this very thing: "He who covers over an offense promotes love, but whoever repeats the matter separates close friends" (17:9).
A Time for Offense
While offending one another can be counterproductive, sometimes we need to be offended.
Consider the story of Jesus and the Pharisees in Matthew 15. After Jesus calls the Pharisees hypocrites for finding ways around the law, Jesus' disciples come to Him and say: "Do you know that the Pharisees were offended when they heard this?"
I imagine their eyes were wide as they essentially said, "Um, Jesus. You just ticked off some of the most important guys in Jerusalem. Are you sure you wanted to do that?"
Jesus' response is interesting. He says: "Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be pulled up by the roots." (v. 14)
Christ wasn't concerned about offending people for the right reasons. He understood that the Pharisees were offended because what He told them was the truth. Their pride had been hurt, but their reaction was evidence of their hardheartedness.
The Bible tells us that believers are an offensive odor to those who do not know God (2 Cor. 2:15-16). If you've spent much time talking to non-believers, they will most certainly express the ways Christians offend them. But if you listen closely, the thing that may actually be offending them is the Gospel. Nothing hurts man's pride like the need for a Savior. According to Paul, the cross itself is an offense (Gal. 5:11).
The Locked City
So what's the big deal about offending someone? If Jesus did it, shouldn't we? Offending others by speaking the truth of the Gospel is one thing. You might even say it's part of the job description of a believer. Offending others for your own satisfaction, however, is not.
When you offend someone, it impedes your impact in that person's life. Proverbs 18:19 says, "An offended brother is more unyielding than a fortified city, and disputes are like the barred gates of a citadel."
Several years ago I found out that Ty (not his real name, of course), someone who attended my Sunday school class and whom I considered to be a friend, had said something negative about me to someone else. Since I received the information in a gossipy way, I didn't confront him about it.
But during the next year the offense smoldered like embers under a pile of hay. It affected how I viewed Ty's leadership. My bitterness grew to the point where I even avoided eye contact with him.
Everything came to a head the Sunday I heard my pastor preach on Matthew 18. "If your brother sins against you, go and show him his fault, just between the two of you. If he listens to you, you have won your brother over" (v. 15) Before I could chicken out, I picked up my phone and dialed Ty's number.
He was happy to meet with me and when I explained how he had offended me, he was ready and eager to apologize. "I thought maybe something was wrong," he said, "but I didn't know what it was."
It turned out the wound that had plagued me for more than a year — the thing that had caused me to resent this guy's leadership — was an offhanded statement he had made that he didn't even believe anymore. I learned my lesson. My cooperation with a fellow Christian had been hindered by my unwillingness to deal with an offense.
Ty is a good example of how a believer should react when he has offended someone. He listened to me. Without getting defensive or making excuses, he apologized for the way he had hurt me. I had become that fortified city, but his gentle response unlocked the doors.
I think of that experience often as one of the most impacting of my spiritual journey. For the most part, I try to apply grace to situations where I feel attacked or insulted. Proverbs 19:11 says, "A man's wisdom gives him patience; it is to his glory to overlook an offense." Choosing not to get offended is glorious. Really? I mean, it seems like a nice thing to do, but glorious?
I think the glory is found in the fact that this action reflects God's grace. I was born offending God and will continue to do so until I die. And yet, because of Christ, God chooses to overlook the offense. And this is to His glory.
David implored: "Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting" (Psalm 139:23-24).
That's my prayer, too. And as I recognize His abundant grace toward me in my imperfection, I will be more apt to overlook the offenses of others.
No offense, but I think you should do the same.
"No offense, but ..."
Nothing puts me on edge like those three words. What follows is never pleasant.
No offense, but you have a lot of zits. [Read: Someone should tell you your face is hard to look at.]
No offense, but your name is kind of old-fashioned. [Read: I think your name is dumb.]
No offense, but you just don't have the experience for the role. [Read: You are a talentless wannabe who could never compete with the likes of me.]
What someone means when they say "no offense," is that they are about to offend you ... badly. The thing is, offense rarely presents itself in such an overt way.
Many times it's a statement that hits us wrong or an action we find inconsiderate. It's a presumption someone makes or an assumption we make or an assumption we make about a presumption someone else makes.
Basically, it's pretty easy to get offended.
I've seen this concept at work in my own life. Several years ago I had a blowout with a friend. We were working on a project together and had a major disagreement about how to proceed. He assumed I didn't trust him; I assumed he didn't care about my feelings. We both took offense.
Two months later we sat at a restaurant booth, working out the final threads of that conflict. That experience had a happy ending, because we were able to discover what went wrong before our relationship disintegrated. We recognized that neither one of us had intended to offend. It had just happened.
Insult Me, Please
We live in a world where people seem to want to be offended.
Last week I accidentally pulled out in front of someone in a parking lot. Even though we were both driving slowly and there was little chance of an accident, he shook his fist at me and yelled something I couldn't hear but assumed was not complimentary. He was offended.
When you think about it, the root of offense is pride. Someone does something that seems disrespectful or degrading, and my "I deserve better" alarm goes off. If my expectation is that people are out to wrong me, I will read every action or word as a potential insult.
I know people like this. I've been like this.
The thing is, I am not supposed to be offended for myself. Jesus said, "Bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you" (Luke 6:28). As a Christ-follower, I am not to be overly concerned about my rights or the way I'm being treated.
The principles of God's kingdom promote a different way. 1 Corinthians 13:5 says love "is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs." Love is not easily offended, nor does it give offense. In fact, these things stand in the way of love — the trademark of the Christian life (1 Peter 4:8).
Proverbs says this very thing: "He who covers over an offense promotes love, but whoever repeats the matter separates close friends" (17:9).
A Time for Offense
While offending one another can be counterproductive, sometimes we need to be offended.
Consider the story of Jesus and the Pharisees in Matthew 15. After Jesus calls the Pharisees hypocrites for finding ways around the law, Jesus' disciples come to Him and say: "Do you know that the Pharisees were offended when they heard this?"
I imagine their eyes were wide as they essentially said, "Um, Jesus. You just ticked off some of the most important guys in Jerusalem. Are you sure you wanted to do that?"
Jesus' response is interesting. He says: "Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be pulled up by the roots." (v. 14)
Christ wasn't concerned about offending people for the right reasons. He understood that the Pharisees were offended because what He told them was the truth. Their pride had been hurt, but their reaction was evidence of their hardheartedness.
The Bible tells us that believers are an offensive odor to those who do not know God (2 Cor. 2:15-16). If you've spent much time talking to non-believers, they will most certainly express the ways Christians offend them. But if you listen closely, the thing that may actually be offending them is the Gospel. Nothing hurts man's pride like the need for a Savior. According to Paul, the cross itself is an offense (Gal. 5:11).
The Locked City
So what's the big deal about offending someone? If Jesus did it, shouldn't we? Offending others by speaking the truth of the Gospel is one thing. You might even say it's part of the job description of a believer. Offending others for your own satisfaction, however, is not.
When you offend someone, it impedes your impact in that person's life. Proverbs 18:19 says, "An offended brother is more unyielding than a fortified city, and disputes are like the barred gates of a citadel."
Several years ago I found out that Ty (not his real name, of course), someone who attended my Sunday school class and whom I considered to be a friend, had said something negative about me to someone else. Since I received the information in a gossipy way, I didn't confront him about it.
But during the next year the offense smoldered like embers under a pile of hay. It affected how I viewed Ty's leadership. My bitterness grew to the point where I even avoided eye contact with him.
Everything came to a head the Sunday I heard my pastor preach on Matthew 18. "If your brother sins against you, go and show him his fault, just between the two of you. If he listens to you, you have won your brother over" (v. 15) Before I could chicken out, I picked up my phone and dialed Ty's number.
He was happy to meet with me and when I explained how he had offended me, he was ready and eager to apologize. "I thought maybe something was wrong," he said, "but I didn't know what it was."
It turned out the wound that had plagued me for more than a year — the thing that had caused me to resent this guy's leadership — was an offhanded statement he had made that he didn't even believe anymore. I learned my lesson. My cooperation with a fellow Christian had been hindered by my unwillingness to deal with an offense.
Ty is a good example of how a believer should react when he has offended someone. He listened to me. Without getting defensive or making excuses, he apologized for the way he had hurt me. I had become that fortified city, but his gentle response unlocked the doors.
I think of that experience often as one of the most impacting of my spiritual journey. For the most part, I try to apply grace to situations where I feel attacked or insulted. Proverbs 19:11 says, "A man's wisdom gives him patience; it is to his glory to overlook an offense." Choosing not to get offended is glorious. Really? I mean, it seems like a nice thing to do, but glorious?
I think the glory is found in the fact that this action reflects God's grace. I was born offending God and will continue to do so until I die. And yet, because of Christ, God chooses to overlook the offense. And this is to His glory.
David implored: "Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting" (Psalm 139:23-24).
That's my prayer, too. And as I recognize His abundant grace toward me in my imperfection, I will be more apt to overlook the offenses of others.
No offense, but I think you should do the same.
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