Solving problems isn’t the point. (pg. 1) Feeling better has become more important than finding God. And worse, we assume that people who find God always feel better. . . . We now matter more than God. (pg. 18) We exist for him, not the other way around. (pg. 19)
I knew I could not survive life outside the Garden unless I knew God better. The battle raging in my soul was one I knew I could not win. Either I had to deny how painful things were; or I could numb my pain with the temporary thrills of sin; or I could hope that my obedience might persuade God to bless me with good health, plenty of money, successful relationships, and few hassles. I need to come to God on his terms. (pg. 31)
In our day, the message sounds like this: you can maneuver God to get what you want. God will not resurrect your wife, and he may not straighten out your kids, but he will help you feel good about who you are. Even if your hard circumstances do not change, you can accept yourself and enjoy who you are. We moderns no longer err by defining the peace of God that passes all understanding as pleasant circumstances. Our mistake is to think that peace means having a satisfying sense of our own value and worth. Neither definition gets to the heart of the matter. God’s peace belongs to those who have confidence in his goodness even when life is tough and their self-esteem is low. It should be noted that we can experience God’s peace and a poor self-image at the same time. (pg. 37) Whenever we place a higher priority on solving our problems than on pursuing God, we are immoral. . . . We will be more troubled by our discomfort than by our unholiness. (pg. 38)
I must surrender my fascination with myself to a more worthy preoccupation with the character and purposes of God. I am not the point. He is. I exist for him. He does not exist for me. (pp. 40, 41)
Are we merely living, or are we walking with God? Are we merely committed to feeding our souls? To arranging our lives around getting our needs met. . . Or are we committed to knowing God, to cooperating with him as loved participants in a plan larger than ourselves, to becoming like his Son? (pg. 41)
Our most natural passion is to make life outside the Garden of Eden a little more like we imagine it would be inside. We are more committed to making life work now than we are to finding God and living for a later hope. We naturally turn to God only to use him to improve our present lives. . . . We are passionately determined to make our lives less painful, and we will do whatever it takes to reach this goal in a disappointing, sometimes pleasurable, and maddeningly uncertain world. To feel a deep, throbbing passion about our well-being in this world is as natural as breathing. And nothing is wrong with that, unless we feel no deeper passion for God! God has told us to love him with a passion that exceeds all other passions. (pg. 45)
Citizens of this world live with two objectives: (1) to find some way to make their present lives happier, and (2) to influence the people and materials in their world to cooperate. Beneath their every act of altruism, benevolence, and sacrifice lies the motive of self-service that destroys its moral value. Christians, however, are citizens of another world; in this one we are strangers, aliens, and pilgrims. Our distinguishing mark is our passion for God. (pp. 45, 46)
In a culture so thoroughly devoted to life now, and in a church drenched with teaching on self-improvement and building happier lives, we can’t easily develop a passion for something other than our immediate satisfaction. The historic church, in its role as embassy of a foreign kingdom, taught that the chief end of people is to glorify God and enjoy him forever; the modern church too often teaches that the chief end of God is to gratify people. We must return to our earlier understanding that personal fulfillment is not the highest value, that the well-being of any individual matters less than the glory of God, and that we will find ourselves only when we look for God first. Is it really possible to think like that? [Answer = Hebrews 11!] (pg. 46)
We all fear that life is intolerable and overwhelming, but we don’t want to admit it. To do so would require a terrifying dependence on God. But the fabric of life is shredded beyond repair . . . nothing can sew it back together. We will never fully mend the rip — only God can accomplish that. But we have a larger purpose than patching up life; to know God and enjoy him forever. (pg. 55)
How can we become more aware of what we tend to deny and thereby know God more intimately? The more aware we become of certain truths about what life is really like, the more committed we will be to knowing God, and the less concerned we will be about solving our immediate problems. (pg. 55)
Crabb’s five truths that he is now facing follow:
- Our deepest longings are inconsolable. Still, I find myself clinging to this world and to the legitimate joys it affords. I want rich, legitimate pleasures that never end. The deepest pleasures of life don’t satisfy — they point us forward. (pg. 56)
- Other people’s lives testify to the value of knowing God better. . . . A few choice saints testify to the possibility of knowing God better. We are drawn to them not merely because of their moral superiority or their richer capacity to love, but because of the strong impression that these folks know God in a way we don’t. Most of these people are older and reluctant to talk about themselves. They’re easy to pass by. (pp. 57,58)
- We are inescapably selfish. We put ourselves and our own well-being first. We value healing for our pain more than pardon for our sin. We need to see ourselves as more sinful than wounded. We need to face the ugly, self-centered energy present in all our conversations. (pp. 58,59)
- The Holy Spirit is a person who works in our lives. As we reflect more on the Spirit’s presence, his single-minded purpose of promoting Christ, and his transcendent power to keep us going, perhaps we’ll realize how arrogant it is for us either to ignore him or try to figure him out. And we’ll become more aware of how badly we want him to do his work in our lives. (pp. 60,61)
- Suffering is inevitable. There is more to life than recovering from hardship. Neither our personal pain nor the struggles of millions to survive can serve as the organizing focus of life. Future hope is more valuable than present relief. Until we realize this, we are not on the path to finding God. (pg. 61)
When we become aware of our incurable pain, we will cry out to God in rage and sorrow. “Cure our pain!” we plead. “Deliver us from our enemies!” But God does not reliably respond as we wish, and finally we slump, exhausted, robbed of the energy we need to focus on relieving our own problems. As exhaustion immobilizes us, as we lose interest in making things better, we are slowly freed to pursue God. We are desperate now not for solutions from God, but for fellowship with God. (pg. 62)
Is there any joy in Christ apart from the blessings of godly kids, good friends, health, and money? Could I make it with just him? (pg. 65)
