Lindsey Wagstaffe's greatest passion is to see the glory of Christ, cherish Him unreservedly, and assist others in doing the same. She treasures the family and church God has blessed her with, and lives outside of San Francisco with her parents and two younger sisters.
Legalism isn't the only problem area for us as Christians. Since we're under grace—since we have a relationship with God, and since our sins are forgiven—sometimes we can be careless about obedience. In fact, we can be pretty bold about it.
Though we may pay lip-service to the idea of asking God for a hand of assistance, we typically feel the bulk of responsibility. We're left to deal with the day-to-day business of attacking our indwelling sin—and that business gets frustrating pretty fast as we keep falling back on our face in the same ugly sins. It's a constantly discouraging task. But praise God—white-knuckling our way into holiness isn't the way of the gospel.
At the deepest level of who we are, we can hunger for praise and admiration for ourselves or we can hunger for God to be praised and admired through our lives. Even unbelievers have the first core desire, but only one who has been transformed by the gospel desires God to be front and center stage in their lives in all things.
It is wise to stop from time to time and ask ourselves: What do I hunger for? Where do I turn for satisfaction? The answer reveals our treasure—that is where we invest our love.
If I could time travel to drop a hint to my freshman self, I'd jab myself (gently) in the ribs and say, "Hey lady, take a chill pill—this college stuff isn't half as big as you think it is." Then I'd give myself a Jamba Juice and crack open the Bible.
I am learning something, and it is changing this Chihuahua heart—sitting at Jesus' feet like Mary, choosing the one necessity, is not meant to end with morning devotions. We can "sit" at His feet all day, even while we "run." In some strange twist, it is only when our souls are quietly alert to receive from Jesus that we can run at all.
I don't personally find myself often using the words "praise the Lord," but I'm sure that 2012 will bring me new opportunities to continue to thank Him excitedly. I'm also sure that this year will be strewn with heavy, hard days. I will cry—and I will probably cry hard. But I'm commanded to rejoice continually and give thanks in all circumstances.
I don't know if I've ever met a believer who hasn't struggled with it at some point. Like the father of the boy with an unclean spirit, we exclaim, "I believe; help my unbelief!" (Mark 9:24)
God wants us to come to Him clingy and needy. Yes, it does bring to mind that annoying OCD type who latches onto victims like a burr, but I want to be latched onto Christ obsessively, too.
It was always very clear to me that Christianity was not simply one facet of life to be dutifully attended to but the whole orb that everything else was somehow linked to. Life was about Jesus for my parents—and so it was for me too, externally. I prayed, obeyed my parents, memorized Scripture, shared the gospel ... and did it all because I loved myself. I was spiritually dead, but I thought I was alive.
You know the basic plotline of salvation. God becomes a man. He lives a sinless life, teaches and performs miracles, is hung on a cross, dies in the place of sinners, and is raised to life three days later. The Bible informs us that He bore the wrath of God so we could become one with Christ-God's own children.
So how does the innocent Man's death make us righteous before the Father? Jesus is punished instead of me—and I'm somehow forgiven. God dies so we can live with Him. How is that even ... right?
God created us to be drawn to the opposite sex, and marriage
is an incredible covenant designed for our holiness and God's glory. But the
catechism does not say that the chief end of man is marriage. It says that our goal should be to glorify God and enjoy
Him forever—and yet we often operate exactly as if the former were true.
But what if covetousness goes far deeper than a surface
desire for flashy, expensive things in a store? What if covetousness is the root of anger, fighting, bitterness, and
all unkind speech as well?
It's easy to acknowledge that a girl who flaunts her drop-dead-gorgeous
looks has a problem in the area of pride, but am I really saying that a girl
who thinks she's completely unattractive and untalented may struggle with the
very same issue?
We tend to hone in on the "ask whatever you wish" phrase of John 15:7 first, but we
can't even start to think about applying the second part if we're ignoring the
first part—the command to abide.
What's going on with all this griping and moaning? Why are
so many Christians filtering in and out of Bible studies and still feeling
defeated by sin day in and out?
What if we lived in imminent
expectation and excitement for Jesus' return? What if we said "Come Lord Jesus" every day—and meant it? How would it change the way we spoke and thought and used our time if we were counting down?
When I was about ten or eleven years old, I stopped being able to fall asleep easily at night. I’d on my bunk-bed instead, staring at the ceiling and thinking about hell. Where would I go when I died? I said my own version of ‘the sinner’s prayer’ every night, but it didn’t shake my fear. Maybe you can relate.
Many of you have raised questions about your own salvation. How can you tell if you’ve been saved?
We all have noble intentions of reforming our ways-- it's just that our efforts tend to crumble quickly. (Producing discouragement, then more failure, then hopelessness, then more failure... it doesn't seem to end.) How can we change when all our previous attempts have only landed us flat on our faces?
Confessing to habits of “procrastination” and “bad time management” is common enough. In those terms, it can almost sound like a mild (and sometimes even amusing) fault. But there’s nothing funny about sin.
As I’ve been taking the time to be quiet before God yesterday and today, the motives I’ve had behind many things are being exposed. Even while I’m praising Him in words, I’m often so much more concerned with making my name look good than Christ’s
If Avatar has inadvertently helped someone recognize the vanity of life apart from Christ, I'm grateful. Restlessness about this world is good. Satisfaction in Pandora, however—or any other fictitious "alternate reality"—is not.
If Avatar has inadvertently helped someone recognize the vanity of life apart from Christ, I'm grateful. Restlessness about this world is good. Satisfaction in Pandora, however—or any other fictitious "alternate reality"—is not.
In spite of massive amounts of Hallmark cards purchased yearly on Mother's Day, it's a cultural taboo if you want to be "a mom" when you grow up—unless you also "do something with your life" in the corporate world first and continue to get on with your career afterward.
We can read the Bible every day of our lives, but if we're just
processing the letters into words, it won't make any difference. We need to adopt a new method of reading.
Do your eyelids have a tendency to grow heavy during church or maybe your prayers have been drying up if they last longer than a few minutes? As I remember falling asleep in His presence, I'm forced to ask myself: What's going on here? How do we become so bored with Christ?