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Comforted vs. Comfortable
I had something pruned from my life that was causing problems. It seemed like a small thing but after it was gone I finally understood something about God, and me, and the church, and the Kingdom that was kind of foggy before. This pruning involved the relinquishing of the pleasure of drinking chai tea latte.
Nothing wrong at all with the stuff, aside from the sugar and the caffeine (despite the label that claims its 98.9% caffeine free, it still buzzed me. Imagine me on a Monster or Red Bull.) Those things weren't the problem in and of themselves. The problem was that chai tea latte, for me, was comfort. God had told me he had given me the keys to the kingdom, and that all he has is mine. But he told me a "weed" was impeding that--and then he laid the chai thing on me.
I whiningly asked him why it seems I have to give up everything that gives me pleasure and he started calling me names--(Okay, I was in rebellion and was not being very fair and the names he called me were "Levite" and "Nazirite.") The long and short of it is that I have used chai tea latte to comfort myself when I am stressed or lonely or afraid, or just to treat myself when I felt I deserved it—just as I used to do with coffee and chocolate. Incidentally, if you want to keep drinking coffee, do not, I repeat, do NOT say to God that he is just as comforting as a cup of coffee. Within a year of making God the object of such a ridiculous comparison I had to stop drinking it because it messed me up big time.
Anyway, I stopped. And I realized that He didn't want me replacing it with something healthier, because the point was not about my health, per se—nor even ultimately about chai. It was about false comfort. He was really challenging me to stop reserving for myself the right to my comforts.
Having grown up relatively poor, I had this unspoken expectation when I came to Christ that life would be easier as a believer. That’s kind of the sales pitch I was given. The result was that I've looked to God to give me a comfortable life. I didn't think I was doing that, but I was. This became clear to me when I had a fit of jealousy over the lifestyle of another believer I know who has everything I ever wanted in life despite making choices to avoid the cross in key areas. I know we should not compare, but there are times when it kind of gets in your face, especially when you're in a season when more is being asked of you. I asked Him what the difference was. I know I am loved, but so is she. I know he is my reward--but he is every believer's reward. So what is the difference between the believer who lives a comfortable life and the one who suffers and sacrifices to get closer to God?
Before I got an answer to that I got a question, and it was this: If there was no difference at all, if a believer who stayed comfortable got the same reward as a believer who suffered and sacrificed, would I keep loving Him? Would I keep making the choices I have been making?
I had to answer that I wanted my answer to be yes, but He would have to bring me to the place where I could do that joyfully.
In the end I got an answer to my question, and the answer came so quietly that I almost missed it. The difference is authority—authority to do kingdom business. The last thing my flesh wants is to be rewarded with more responsibility, but somewhere in this whole thing I have crossed a line between what is important to me and what is important to God. I have author Brad Jersak to thank for reminding me in his book Can You Hear Me? that a friendship is a two way street, and that friendship with God inevitably leads us into the things that are on His heart.
This is the key to the Kingdom that he was talking to me about—authority. I think we as the church don't have much authority in our culture anymore because we've been too comfortable for too long, and unwilling to release our comfort to do the work of the kingdom. We defensively vilify those who suggest we should release our comforts, and mock those who relinquish their own. If you ever need to see evidence of this, just see what kind of response you get if you suggest to another believer that his monthly restaurant expenses could provide a week’s worth of groceries for a family of four, or that he should spend one of his two annual vacations serving people at the local rescue mission, who never have a vacation, or worse, that he should invite one of them to join him! I myself would have a whole array of excuses ready, all of which when honestly examined would boil down to one thing: my comfort over theirs.
I’ve been concerned about keeping what measure of comfort I have, and while I want to help others find comfort as well, I think twice when it requires me to get more uncomfortable than I already am. I’ve made effective use of the "personal responsibility" dodge to justify the inequities of life; this helps me feel safe in holding onto as much as possible. (Most conservative Christians I know do this too.) We worship the God of All Comfort, forgetting that he is also the God of Justice.
Because of this we come across as phony to a world full of real suffering. While much of the world may be resistant to Christianity and the church, they have no argument with certain truths expressed in scripture. 1 John 3:17-18 says that if you see someone in need and have the means to help, but choose not to, you can’t really know the love of God. The world would add that you have no authority to tell anyone else about it, either! As long as we deem our comforts as rights and necessities, we make the Kingdom about ourselves, and not the King. The world is already full of kingdoms that serve a self-focused, privileged minority.
Aside from that, when I rely on anything other than God for comfort, I am by-passing my relationship with him. I only gain as much of God as I am willing to release for his sake. It’s Jesus we need, and its Jesus the world needs to see in us.
When Jesus promised me comfort he never promised I'd be comfortable. He only promised he would never leave me, and that I would enjoy the companionship of the Comforter. But if I am too invested in what comforts this world has to offer, then those comforts are all I will ever get. Those aren’t my words, they are his. And if we don’t know how to take hold of true, lasting comfort ourselves, then we have no authority to offer it to anyone else.
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