Therefore we also have as our ambition, whether at home or absent, to be pleasing to him.  For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, in order that each one may be recompensed for his deeds in the body, according to what he has done, whether good or bad.   

~2 Corinthians 5:9-10

I’m not a huge fan of cooking, but I happen to find reality cook-off shows like Iron Chef quite fascinating and intriguing to watch.  Perhaps it’s because my taste buds aren’t the most discerning (I still can’t tell when something’s too salty or too bland), and I simply get enamored by the skill and the detail that these chefs put into their craft.  There are no rules; a competitor could, by his own volition, take the secret-ingredient chicken and simply deep fry it in canola oil for 10 minutes, plop it on a messy bed of white rice, drench it with soy sauce (or better-yet, honey mustard), and stick the plate in front of the judges.  From what I remember, the only rule in iron chef is that they have to use the specified ingredient.  But just “getting it done” is the last thing on their minds. Instead, these men and women – aspiring to be the next big thing in the culinary world – work off their creative juices and stressing themselves out to prepare a more than grandiose three-course meal that they hope would find favor with the judges.  In presentation, creativity, and taste, these aspiring chefs are ambitious to prepare dishes that would be pleasing not to them, but to the panel of judges who have the prerogative to reward or discipline the competitors.  In the end – win or lose – such ambition to please the judges and such anticipation for the rewards to be dispensed produce a caliber of dishes that are, to be succinct, nothing short of world-class.     

We often hear people classify certain peers as “lazy” and others are “ambitious.”  The reality is that every human being is ambitious.  It’s not about the level of ambition, but rather the object of one’s ambition.  It’s what people are ambitious for that distinguishes the direction and the character of any given person and the life that he or she lives.  Those who are characteristically “lazy” people are, in fact, ambitious – just not for grades, money, or power.  They’re ambitious for comfort and ease.  There are others who are ambitious for scholastic or occupational success.  Others are ambitious for popularity and respect.  But in the end, every human being is driven by ambition.  And what creates ambition is what they anticipate to be the rewards of their pursuits.  A high school student, anticipating the reward of getting into Harvard and attaining the bragging rights that come with being an ivy-leaguer, becomes that ambitious scholar who his peers see as a crazy nerd and who his teachers see as a model student.  A professional athlete, anticipating the glory that comes from having an Olympic gold medal around his neck, ambitiously trains and cuts out the excess fat and sugar from his diet, all the while becoming that intense competitor well-respected and feared by his colleagues.  What one anticipates to be the future reward of his labor is what creates in him the ambition to live his life the way he does. 

As a Christian – a blood-bought and Spirit-filled follower of Jesus – what must one be ambitious for?  For too many, they are ambitious to be pleasing – only to the wrong people.  Many believers strive to earn the favor of a brother or sister of the opposite gender, with the hopes of getting married.  Others strive to earn the favor of the pastor, with the hopes of gaining an edge in the ministry ladder.  Others strive to be pleasing to their peers, with the hopes of gaining the respect as the “godliest in church.”  And yet others are simply ambitious to please themselves, doing all things in such a way that they feel satisfied with what they accomplished, “regardless of what anyone else says…as long as I know I did well.”  Yet, a Christian is called to be ambitious to please not himself, or any other human being for that matter.  Those who are followers of Christ are those who have as their ambition – their goal in life – to be pleasing to Christ, and no other.  He makes his ambition to live a life which His Creator and Redeemer finds flavorful.  In all that he does, the follower of Jesus seeks not to live for himself, but to be a living sacrifice holy and acceptable to the Lord.  He is not content with living the status quo, or “just getting it done.”  As a guest-pastor once said to us, he does everything to “make Jesus smile.”  He is ambitious to be a pleasurable sight for His God to behold. 

Yet, godly ambition in a believer is not without the anticipation of the reward.  What drives the Christian to strive for what he does with such fervency, focus, and faithfulness is the both exciting and fearful prospect of being rewarded eternally for everything – yes, EVERYTHING – that he has done during his temporal stay on earth.  When he considers the fact that he will be called to give an account for all of his words, deeds, and decisions before the living and sovereign God who eternally rewards those who seek Him, the last thing he will seek is to gratify immediate desires.  It is a lie from Satan that those who are most heavenly-minded are those who are of no earthly good.  Quite frankly, the Holy Spirit says the opposite: Those who are most heavenly-minded are those who are will be of most earthly-good.  A Christian will live a present life pleasing to God when he is controlled by a future anticipation of being rewarded by God.  It is the prospect of seeing God and gaining eternal treasures from Him that daily kindles his fire for present faithfulness. 

You, who believe, stay faithful till the end.  Seek His pleasure and not yours nor anyone else’s.  Remember that everything that you need to know to be pleasing to His sight has been written for you in His Word and modeled for you through His Son.  Let your future anticipation fuel your present ambition.  For the Lord is not so unkind as to forget the things that you do for Him and His kingdom.    

Finally then, brethren, we request and exhort you in the Lord Jesus, that as you receive from us instruction as to how you ought to walk and please God, just as you actually do, that you excel still more. ~1 Thessalonians 4:1

In August 2010, Rafael Nadal arrived at Flushing Meadows to compete at the U.S. Open as the reigning French and Wimbledon champion (the first man to win both the French Open and Wimbledon in the same year since Bjorn Borg did so in the days of wooden racquets). There was no doubt, both in the computer rankings and in the minds of all tennis players and experts, that he was the planet’s best and most dominant player. Armed with a combination of game, guts, and grit that more than intimidated his rivals, all marveled at him as the one who “had it all”….all, except Rafael himself. At that U.S. Open, a journalist surveying the pre-tournament practice sessions of the tournament’s top competitors watched one of Nadal’s practice sessions, and found him working on his serve – with an altered grip! In an effort to improve the pace and penetration on what he believed was the weakest part of his game, Nadal had come to the U.S. Open not to announce his dominance to the public, but with the gutsy intention of making improvements to what was the soundest of tennis arsenals. As the world’s best player and the heavy favorite to win at Flushing Meadows, Nadal was focused on one thing: excelling still more. It has often been said in the realm of competitive athletics that the only thing constant in a champion’s mindset is change. Every highly competitive athlete – regardless of the sport – understands that unless he continues to improve, the competition will eventually catch up and ultimately surpass him, leaving him in the dust. Every athlete knows the danger of complacency. And, must I say, every Christian should as well. Complacency in one’s walk with Jesus is one of the most widespread epidemics in the church today – amongst the leadership and the laymen, the pastors and the pastored, the ordained ministers and the occupational members. Even more dangerous is that it is as instinctive as it is deadly. It’s not hard to get people to be spiritually satisfied with where they’re at in their walks with the Lord. It’s not hard for faithful church members to feel arrogant about their recent victories and outwardly visible growth. It’s not hard for people to miss the fact that they have not yet reached perfection, but rather are still called to reach for the prize of the upward call of Christ Jesus.

The Thessalonian church, by all mean, was the model church. Should you have been in Paul’s position, what kind of an exhortation would you give to such a godly assembly? What would you say to fellow soldiers who were consistently working in faith, laboring in love, and continually steadfast in hope? What instruction would you leave such a congregation that sounded forth the word of the Lord in every place through their lives such that those places were in no need of your apostolic instruction? What word would you leave to a church that, amidst all tribulation, received the word with joy and fervently turned away from idols to serve the living God? To such a church, he says, “excel still more.”

In other words, “Step it up a notch!” They were not to be satisfied, complacent, or to simply “keep doing what they were doing” to the same degree. They were running well, but they were to run faster. They were fighting well, but they were to fight harder. Oh how you who are spiritually growing ought to take the same exhortation to heart. In your faith, be even more radical. Attempt even greater things for the Lord that cause all but the most committed believers to feel a little off balance. In your love, be even more sacrificial. After all that you have given to others, give more. Sacrifice more. Lay more of yourself down for the sake of the brethren. In your hope, be even more steadfast and anticipating. Strengthen your gaze towards heaven, and abound in joy over the anticipation of your eternal rewards even more than you are today. Grow firmer and sharper in your biblical convictions. Be satisfied not with your current knowledge of the Bible, but present yourself an even more accurate handler of God’s truth. Grow more fruitful in your character. Be satisfied not with your current image, but stay dissatisfied until Christ is fully formed in you. Grow more skillful in your competency in ministry. Be satisfied not with your current wisdom in dealing with people, in the fervency of your evangelism, in the depth of your discipleship of younger believers. Make more of an impact onto God’s people than you already are today. Grow deeper in your communion with God. Be satisfied not with your current level of intimacy with Jesus Christ, but discipline yourself further that your heart may gain a greater fear and adoration of the Lord. Let us shave off the extra weight, further tone our spiritual muscles, and run harder than we ever have before. For though we are growing, never will we stop being renewed until the last day. Thus, let us agonize and reach for the prize of the upward call of Christ Jesus! Let us, for the sake of the gospel and the prize of knowing Christ, step it up a notch!

Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your toil is not in vain in the Lord

As a former personal trainer, I’m a huge fan of body-weight workouts.  Forget the machines and the new infomercial equipment; when it comes down to it, pushups and pull-ups are really still the most effective way to get one’s body in good muscular shape.  Watch an Olympic athlete train, and it’s really all they do.  Machines and equipment exist, because people want to get in shape in a way that avoids the body weight exercises.  Hence, people have to keep coming up with new gadgets that supposedly help you get your beach body in 21 days, because the reality is that what has been will always be.  People did pushups and pull-ups back then to get in shape, and the people who consistently do them today are also the ones who will get in shape.  These body weight exercises are difficult, because they require the body to be two things that most tend to see as mutually exclusive: firm and fervent.  Doing pushups and pull-ups – and a lot of them – means that one has to both keep his core muscles absolutely firm will furiously pumping his upper body muscles to increase repetition.  Sacrifice firmness, and you risk injury.  Sacrifice fervency, and you gain nothing.  And there’s the mindset – the belief that though one sees little results after the first or even second workout, that what he’s doing is indeed building him up slowly but surely.

It’s a human tendency to categorize people into certain compartments regarding character that we feel as mutually exclusive – particularly in the areas of firmness and fervency.  When it comes to members in the church and the ministry that they engage in, Christians are often characterized as one or the other.  Some are known as the firm ones – the ones who are steady in their convictions, who are faithful to showing up, who are always on time, who never seem to budge.  They’re not thought of as particularly excited or energetic, but at least they provide stability to the church.  Others, however, are characterized as the fervent ones – the passionate, energetic Christians who seem to run at a high-octane tank and fuel the fire in the church.  They’re not thought of as particularly reliable or steady, but at least they keep the energy level up and keep the church moving forward.  While it is surely true that each believer carries his own set of strengths and weaknesses, it’s unfortunate that we tend characterize both ourselves and others in such a way that produces thinking that having one characteristic means not being able to have the other.  Are firm Christians necessarily going to lack fervency?  Are fervent Christians necessarily going to lack firmness? 

The Bible speaks of both of these qualities in a singular thought.  Paul, exhorting the Corinthian church to live in light of the reality of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, says: “Be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord.”  First, he calls them to be steadfast and immovable.  In other words, they were to be firm.  They were to be firm in their labor, in their ministries, in their laboring for the Lord.  They were not to be tossed here and there, and be flaky in the way they sought to engage in the work of Christ.  Yet, they were also to be fervent in their labor.  They were to be always abounding – fruitful and passionate in their ministries.  The call to be firm and the call to be fervent are, then, a singular call.  Firmness and fervency in the Christian minister of the gospel are not two qualities that oppose each other, but rather two qualities that assist one another.  In the same way that keeping one’s core firm allows one to do more repetitions in his pushups, so being firm in one’s convictions and principles and ministry allows one to fervently abound in it.  A Spirit-filled man or woman is not one who characterizes himself as one or the other and is content to remain that way, but one who obeys God by seeking to have both in perfect unity complementation. 

How, then, can one attain both qualities?  How can one mature such that he, in his work for the Lord, is not only characterized by staying power but also by an abounding passion?  Paul answers with this: “knowing that your toil is not in vain in the Lord.”  A Christian can only exhibit firmness and fervency in his labor if he, in his heart and mind, exhibits faith.  He must be mindful at all times that while the world may think that his labor in the Lord is a waste because it outwardly costs him worldly accolades and approval, his toil is not in vain.  He must remember that the Lord who created the heavens and the earth and is sovereignly building His kingdom is not unjust as to forget his labor, and promises to reward him when he passes into eternity.  He must remember that his labor in Christ is of eternal value, and that he will reap what he sows when all things come to an end.  He must remember, in short, that his labor is not in vain.  He must be assured of that which he hopes for, and convicted of that which he does not see.  Such faith will surely produce a combination of firmness and fervency in one’s life that communicates to all around him that he is filled with none other than the Spirit of the living God. 

Therefore, I say, be firm and fervent in the work of the Lord, believing in full faith that your Creator and Savior will reward you in the last day. 

But where sin increased, grace abounded all the more

~Romans 5:20

I believe in justification by faith alone.  At least I affirm that objectively.  As a pastor, I can preach this sermon after sermon.  As a counselor, I can exhort people with this truth.  As a brother, I am quick to remind fellow brethren of such a glorious truth.  But as a sinner, how difficult this is to accept.  Not impossible, but simply difficult.  How I wish that the paper I wrote on the distinction between justification and sanctification was as seared in my heart as firmly as it was in my brain during that semester in seminary when I was required to pen it.  For some reason, after watching God do tremendous work in my life and after closely observing my progress in the faith, it becomes far too easy to fall into the trap of thinking that the expectation for me is now to be sinless rather than constantly battling sin.  I’ll set resolutions.  I’ll set parameters.  I’ll resolve to discipline myself for the purpose of godliness.  I’ll read Scripture.  I’ll pray.  I’ll schedule out my day, so as to make the most of my time.  I’ll closely analyze each moment of the day, so as to ensure that I walk in the path of righteousness pleasing to God and keep away from sin.  I firmly believe with all my heart that, as long as I have the Word of God stored in my heart and the Spirit of God fueling my life, I will manage to stay away from sin.

And then it happens.  The dreaded thing happens.  I sin.  And I know it.  I feel it before it happens, know it when it happens, and feel the effects after it happens.  But I sin.  For that brief moment of disobedience, it seems as if everything that I learned just went out the window.  All that righteousness that I had hoped to “store up” for myself (though I wouldn’t admit it so readily) seemed to amount to absolutely nothing after completely falling short of the glory of God.  After having mistakenly felt good about my progress and walk, I am shockingly reminded during that brief moment that – should I fall down and die – I would be absolutely worthy of eternal punishment.  I don’t doubt my salvation, but I begin to have doubts as to whether I really had been growing and progressing like I thought I was.  At that moment, I begin to panic.  I begin to fear that God would no longer want to look at me, and start to frantically brainstorm of ways in which I can clean myself up and fix myself before approaching God again.  I see the Bible on the table, but I’m too ashamed to read it.  I feel God waiting to hear from me in prayer, but I’m too embarrassed to talk to Him.  How could I, after completely falling on my face before Him – not because I was too weak, but because I was simply disobedient?  It was if at that very moment, I was shocked to be reminded that – in the midst of all the character growth and increasing involvement in God’s ministry – I am still a sinner before Him.  It was if I forgot that, before His throne, after all that I’ve done since running the race of faith, I still have absolutely nothing to offer Him as an atonement for my sin.  After so many people come to you for help, it’s easy to start thinking that somehow God has made a provision for the sins of everyone else but mine.  Thus, when I sin, I’m severely tested as to whether I really trust in the gospel that I proclaim to everyone else.  Would I, after all that’s happened and after the tremendous growth in spiritual maturity, be man enough to humble myself before God as a spiritually impoverished soul who has to completely entrust himself to nothing but the grace of God?  I look at all that I have accomplished, and realize that nothing that I have done has the power to redeem me from the penalty of my sin.  Not the stack of sermons that I preached for the mid-week Bible study and Sunday services.  Not the number of people that I counseled and discipled to maturity.  Not number of hours I spent shepherding my family to serve the Lord.  Not the Bible translations.  Not the hours spent in prayer.  Nothing, nothing nothing….except the work done on Calvary by someone other than myself.    

As a pastor, as a father, as a husband, as a Christian, it’s at times still hard for me to admit that I’m a sinner.  That I’m not just a wounded soldier of the good fight or a fatigued runner of the race of faith, but that I’m still filled with disobedience in my heart, is one of the most painful realities to be confronted with.  To go before my Father, Lord, Savior and fully confess the fact that I have nothing to offer Him except a faith in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ is more than humbling.  It is, to my ego, humiliating.  Yet, how many times will God pick me up after falling completely short of His standards?  How many times will He show grace when I continually fail?  How many second chances will I get after completely blowing it not once, not twice, but over and over again?  I know that He is a holy God and a righteous God.  But to truly believe that He is a gracious God is, believe it or not, tremendously testing to my proud soul.  Yet, what a beautiful place it is for me to be, to realize that I am called not to trust in my own works, but rather in the completed person and work of Jesus Christ?  I am not a child because I earned my right into God’s family, but because of God’s sovereign choice to mercifully and graciously adopt me as His very own son.  He commissions me to the field of gospel ministry not because of my qualifications, but rather despite my utter unworthiness.  He grants me the honor of shepherding my family and my church not because I deserved it, but despite the fact that I currently don’t deserve it.  He promises me salvation not because I am worthy of heaven, but simply because it is in His good pleasure to see me arrive there.  My life then was designed not to demonstrate my perfect walk, but His perfect patience and super-abounding grace.  For where my sin increases, so His grace abounds even more!

 So here I am, still a sinner and admittedly so, but with a heart absolutely rejoicing in my blessed status.  For I considered the very first words of my Savior’s longest earthly sermon: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of God.” 

I was a sinner from the beginning.  Born and raised in the Roman Catholic religion, I was always aware that God existed.  I followed the religious traditions of my family – we attended church every Sunday.  I followed their prayer life as well – we prayed in front of carven images, often with rosaries in our hands.  I have always been aware of the existence of God – even as a young child, my mind was independent from that of my parents, and I did whatever I could to do what I felt would earn the favor of God and send me to heaven.  After all, this was what I was taught growing up.  For all I knew, Heaven was for the good while hell was for the bad.  I knew that my life before God was independent from my family, and I did whatever I could, as an elementary school child, to do what I felt would impress God and get me into Heaven.  It’s amazing, but true – even at this age, I already had a works-based approach to salvation.

            I was aware of the tension that was developing between my extended family and my Uncle Gines after my Uncle Gines was saved and became a follower of Christ.  It became more of a reality when I was scolded for telling my sisters that praying to Mary was wrong – something my brother and I had been told by Uncle Gines.  And so, for a while, I decided to listen to my parents and purposely saw Uncle Gines as a religious “heretic,” often covering my ears and opening my own little picture Bible to “protect” myself when he would discuss certain theological issues with my brother during family dinners.  But one day, sometime when I was in first grade, I decided to make a trip up to his room.  While the rest of the family was busy chatting over the dinner table in my grandmother’s mansion, I slipped my eight-year old self up to my Uncle Gines’s room upstairs.  He invited me in, and sat me down.  That night, I asked him all the questions that my mind had been pondering over the previous few months – mainly why he was a “born-again Christian” and why he didn’t pray to Mary or the saints.  Needless to say, he answered my questions well.  And, that night, even though I was told countless of times that he was of the “wrong religion”, I believed all that I had heard from Uncle Gines to be true.

            And so, my roots leading to Christianity started there.  Behind the back of my parents, I stopped praying to Mary and the saints.  I had many talks with Uncle Gines about Heaven and hell.  My older brother, Vincent, had been saved not much earlier, and had many conversations with me concerning these matters.  As the years went by, and as matured into my later elementary school years, my brother Vincent shared the gospel with me.  He didn’t do it in one sitting – at least I don’t think.  He slowly, but surely, shared it with me, and I never doubted his words to be true.  “Of course Jesus died for our sins” I would think.  But of course, I had no idea that I was a sinner, and I was not saved.  Life as I knew it was running so smoothly at the time for me to call out to God for salvation.  Still yet, when it came down to choosing between the religious life of my parents and the religious life of Vincent, I chose to follow Vincent.  I called myself a Protestant – mainly because I knew that I didn’t want to be known as a Catholic.

            In 1997, before entering junior high, my parents divorced, and I moved to Los Angeles with my mother and two sisters.  The smooth life as I knew it was shattered, and I was away from Vincent.  I didn’t know where to turn to for comfort, and so I turned to success in school, which at the time I felt was my only source of joy.  I decided to place all of my efforts and all of my pride into my success as a scholar and tried to win people’s approval through such.  For the next six years, up until I graduated from high school, I developed into a young man ravenous for worldly success.  I put all of my efforts into getting good grades, shunned my family, and did everything I could to win the approval of people.  I did maintain a church life; as a sophomore in high school I began to attend Warm Springs Baptist Church, and eventually involved myself in the church’s musical praise team and attended a small Bible Study with my Uncle Gines and a few church friends.  I took pride in this, and proclaimed myself to be a Christian.  A part of my maintaining these activities was for fear of hell.  The other part of it was driven by a rebellious desire to be different from family.  In reality, I had one foot in the church, another in the world, but neither feet were running towards Jesus.  I did not live for the glory of God.  If anything, church was merely a place for me to clarify in my mind what things were permissible and what things were forbidden.  And I did everything I could (such as use foul language, and drink not to the point of getting drunk, and talk lustfully about women without engaging in physical intercourse) to be of the “world” while at the same time maintaining moral externals that would seem to permissible to Biblical standards.  It was clear that I was not living to please God.  I merely kept these Biblical morals because I thought that they would keep me out of hell.  Everything else that I could do that would serve myself, I did.  It was a shameful life that I lived in trying to fool people and God that I was a Christian.  The only person I was fooling was me.  Did I really know Jesus as my personal Savior?  Apparently not – at least according to the instance when I was left without an answer for my praise team leader from my church who asked me during the interview when it was that I had accepted Him as my Savior So there I was, as a college-bound student, running straight for worldly success carrying around a Christian nametag.  There I was – a self-proclaimed devoted Christian sprinting straight to hell.

            It still brings me to my knees to think about the night God saved me.  The events that took place that night are still fresh in memory.  It was a Thursday night, on September 25, 2003, while walking back to my dorm room before the first day of college, that God stopped me on my tracks and rescued me.  I had been in San Diego for almost two weeks, having spent a weekend with Intervarsity Christian Fellowship and most of welcome week attending free barbecues and dessert nights held by other fellowships that I had thought about joining.  That night, that Thursday night, before walking back to my dorm, I found myself talking and praying on one of the library walk blocks with a fellow incoming freshman and childhood friend, Miguel.  Having just left an IV large group, we found ourselves praying, asking God to take control of our college careers, and to make our time at UCSD a time for Him.  In all honesty, although it was my idea to pray, I only did so because I thought it would sound spiritual.  Did I really know what I was talking about?  No – well, at least, not till a few minutes later.  As we separated to go back to our dorms, I was suddenly convicted of a sin that I was always too afraid admit I would ever have to confess – that I did not love God.  I looked up to God, while walking across Mandeville Auditorium, at around 11:00 pm, and admitted to Him that I had never loved Him.  I admitted that I might have not even been a Christian at the time.  I realized, at that moment, that not once in my life did I truly love God, and I knew that this was enough for all of my external actions to be counted as futile.  I realized my state before Him, as a lost sinner, not knowing where to go.  I sat down on one of the chairs in front of the auditorium, and asked God to forgive me for having my back turned to Him for 19 years, and told Him that I now needed Him.  I confessed my need for Jesus, and told Him that night that I wanted to give the rest of my life to Him.  It was the same prayer I had prayed only a few moments earlier with Miguel, but this time it came out of a broken, fearful heart that was looking to God for the first time as the only way to salvation.  I had already heard the gospel message before, but that night was the first time when I truly embraced Christ as my personal Savior, as someone who had died for my sins.  How could I have accepted Christ as my Savior before, when I had never really known what I needed to be saved from?  Previously, I never saw myself as a sinner.  But that night, I understood that night that I was a sinner, and took joy in the fact that Christ had died for my sins, and that now I was going to heaven.  It was no longer just a theory, but a personal reality.  I had always understood it with my head, but that night I finally understood it with my heart.  I remember praying, “God, for 19 years, I had been running away from You.  But You were patient with me, in waiting for me to turn around to ask You to take me back.  Now, my life is Yours.”

            It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when my small group leader at the time asked me to prepare a testimony for the group, that I realized that it was on that Thursday night when I was saved by God and was named a Christian for the first time.  Granted, the first few weeks were puzzling to me, since I knew that I felt different but was not sure why.  All I knew was that I loved God genuinely for the first time, and was all of a sudden willing to live for Him and not for myself.  But while writing the testimony, I asked myself the following: “If I had gotten into a car accident during my drive down to San Diego from Las Vegas, would I have gone to heaven?”  I concluded that the answer was no.  It was during that time, writing my testimony, that I realized that September 25, 2003 was not just a date when I decided to be more passionate to live for God.  Rather, it was the date when God saved me, and gave me a new heart that could finally look to Him as Savior, embrace Him for that, love Him for who He is, and commit to living for Him. 

            I write this testimony now a little over eight years since that day.  Things have changed – radically.  I would never have imagined myself where I am today had you asked me three years ago what life would be like as a now husband, father, and pastor.  Since the day He saved me, I have not looked back.  Life has indeed been very different – very, very different – since.  He justified me that day, and has continued to sanctify me up to this day.  In all honesty, it has been painful.  I once told my first small group (that night I shared my testimony to them) that I had so far had not had a bad day, since each day has been such that I was discovering new things about God.  I really didn’t think that I would ever have a bad day again, and even looked down at Christians who struggled.  A little over a year past, and I was in the emergency room of Scripps Mercy Hospital for trying to jump off the Geisel bridge, having struggled with severe depression.  Following Jesus, I realized, is indeed a call to die to myself.  I have had to give up pursuits and dreams that I never thought God would ask me to do, I have had to rebuild relationships out of love that I never saw myself doing, and I have had to love fellow brothers and sisters in ways that I did not know were possible.  I have had to wage war against a sinful flesh that I once so enjoyed.  I’ve realized that my indwelling sin is what makes following Jesus a true spiritual war.  But in all the struggles, I have never been more joyful than I am today, knowing that despite all of life’s difficulties, I have something that is more precious than anything that the world has to offer – a personal relationship with the living God through my very own Savior, Jesus Christ.  Each day is a struggle to deny myself – each day is a struggle to find joy in God and in nothing else, and to whole-heartedly pursue the welfare of my brothers over my own needs.  But in each of these days, God has further conformed me to the image of Jesus, and thus works in wills in me to look more pleasing to Him each and every day.  In the end, it doesn’t matter how hard life is – I was saved by my very own Creator, who calls me His son, and is empowering me to live for His very kingdom and His glory.  I realized that I am no longer dead to my sin.  I no longer have to give in to my selfish, fleshy desires – I am free to pursue a life of holiness.  I am now released from the bondage of the habits that once had me chained, and now have the freedom to live the life that was planned out for me.  Yes, life is a terribly deep struggle.  Yes, there are times when I feel like I won’t make it through.  But is there any greater joy that, amidst all the struggles, the very God of the universe is making me look more and more like Jesus, that I may grow deeper in the intimacy of my knowledge of Him?    

            God has remained faithful to growing me through trials and struggles, blessing me with joys, and providing me with brothers and sisters who have over the years sharpened me, provided me with true fellowship, and built me up towards Him.  Now, currently an associate pastor of Lighthouse Bible Church San Jose, the task at hand is one of tremendous dignity – being called to shepherd, disciple, and equip God’s precious saints is a task to be taken with utmost gravity, and has caused me to take things one day at a time.  But, again, is there any greater joy than knowing that my God has called me to serve Him, be on His team, and is equipping me to shepherd His workmanship that He Himself set apart before the foundation of the world to glorify Him?  Even more recently, God has blessed me with the opportunity to shepherd my family of a beautiful wife Kathy and wonderful son Jayden.  What a privilege it has been to be called to love them, disciple them, and lead them for the glory of my Savior.  It truly is a noble calling to lead a wife and child to God, but is there a more privileged task than this?  Is there any greater joy than knowing that the very Creator who runs the blood through my veins is shaping me to become more and more like the only human being to ever live a life completely pleasing to Him, in Jesus Christ?  Before college, I was trapped in sin with my back turned towards God.  Now I am currently struggling hard against sin and the sins of others, and walking with Jesus.  Did He save me or what?

And what more shall I say? For time will fail me if I tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets, ³³ who by faith conquered kingdoms, performed acts of righteousness, obtained promises, shut the mouths of lions, ³⁴ quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, from weakness were made strong, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight. ³⁵ Women received back their dead by resurrection; and others were tortured, not accepting their release, so that they might obtain a better resurrection; ³⁶ and others experienced mockings and scourgings, yes, also chains and imprisonment. ³⁷ They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were tempted, they were put to death with the sword; they went about in sheepskins, in goatskins, being destitute, afflicted, ill-treated ³⁸ (men of whom the world was not worthy), wandering in deserts and mountains and caves and holes in the ground.

~Hebrews 11:32-28~

                “How strong is your faith?”  It’s one of the most common questions asked in our Christian circles, and yet I’d say one of the most misunderstood questions of our age.  So often, when we are asked this question concerning our own spiritual walks or when asked about the “faith” of others, we respond with the mundane that reveal what we truly consider faith to be about:

                “So far, so good.  I’ve been reading my Bible and memorizing Scripture…”

                “It’s going well.  Recently, I’ve learned to be more disciplined in praying…”

                “Right now, I’m growing in my faith.  I’m learning to journal and fast weekly…”

Faith in this age and culture has become a euphemism for traditional habits of the regular church-goer.  Faith all of a sudden has been defined by a set of rules, and how faithfully we keep those rules.  Now, I’m not one to say that one should not have disciplines in one’s walk with the Lord designed to promote closer communion with Him.  Yet, these disciplines are not faith, and nor are they the full result of a live lived in faith. 

I was recently struck by both my own misunderstanding of it as well as my misrepresentation of it – all to my own shame which caused me to repent before God for a lack of faith in life.  If it is impossible to please God without faith, I had to ask myself if I really do live by faith in all that I do.  I know the faith that exists in me internally.  Yes, it is the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things not seen.  The question is: Does the outworking of my life truly show that I live in faith in the same way that all of those men and women listed in Hebrews 11 did?  While Hebrews 12:1-2 has long been one of the keystone verses in my life, is the race I run really a race of faith?  Or is it just a race?  Is faith evident in the way I live my life personally?  Is it evident in the way I lead and shepherd my family?  Is there evidence of it in the way I pastor the church in which I’m called to serve?  Does it show in the manner in which I proclaim the gospel to lost souls?  Does it manifest itself in my daily decision-making?

It is not only evident that we often misunderstand what it means to live by faith, but also minimize it. 

“Just have faith that she will say yes to you if you ask her out.  After all, you’re a great guy!”

“Just have faith that you’ll get that job that you want.  After all, you’ve worked hard!”

“Just have faith that you’ll get that two-story house by the time you’re 30.”

It’s frustrating to see Christians – including myself – define a life of faith as a life that trusts God to act as a glorified genie who can grant lustful wishes should they be repeated with sincerity.  This isn’t the kind of faith that pleases God.  This isn’t the kind of faith that the author of Hebrews writes about.

                Hebrews 11:32-38 – a synthesis of the kind of lives produced by faith amongst the Old Testament saints – would make the average American church-goer – myself included – seem almost wimpy.  Evidently amongst the former, faith in the promises of God produced lives of a radical nature.  Take a closer look at what faith accomplished, and one is bound to cringe.  Conquering kingdoms?  Shutting the mouths of lions?  Quenching the power of fire?  Escaping the edge of the sword?  Putting foreign armies to flight?  Receiving back their dead by resurrection?  These saints not only dreamt big – but they lived big.  Am I living in this way?  Not because I’m a dreamer, but because I’m fully assured of the hope that lies in God and fully convicted of that final reward promised to me?  One can’t help but look at what faith not only should accomplish, but did accomplish in these people to wonder if one’s own life consists of that same ingredient.  Faith invests itself in endeavors so big and radical that it keeps the average Christian a little off-balance when observing.  The life produced by faith has such a vision for the spiritually risky that the casual observer – atheist or Christian – would say, “He would need something supernatural to accomplish that!”  Do I live with spiritual risk?  Do you?  Do we, together as a band of brothers united in Christ and assured of an eternal and imperishable inheritance, live dangerously?  Or are we simply complacent?  Are we comfortable?  Are we ambitious for the small?  Or would the riskiness of our choices ad decisions in life make the average American wonder if he himself was living for God?  And no, not because of our legalistic standards and critical words, but because of the length that we are willing to go to live for Jesus?

                Yet even more sobering than considering what faith was designed to accomplish is considering what faith was designed to endure.  For these men and women, living by faith meant being tortured while not accepting their release, that they might attain a better resurrection.  It meant being mocked and scourged.  It meant being chained and imprisoned.  It meant being stoned and saw in two.  It meant being put to death by the sword.  It meant having to wander deserts and mountains and caves and holes in the ground.  It meant, in short, having to endure the radically most painful things that can experienced on earth.  And so, I have to ask, does my life endure such things that those who live by faith did?  If so, how can I say that I truly walk in faith?  Is my life lived in fear rather than in faith, such that the most painful trial I have to face is not having internet connection in my home?  Do we make decisions that are costly?  The one who lives by faith makes the heavenly investment by paying the earthly price.  And those who follow his example find themselves having to endure the same thing.  Are we making decisions that, based on worldly consequences that we receive for it, make us look foolish and pitiful should there be no resurrection from the dead?  Do those who do not know Christ pity me for what I do and how I choose to live?  Do I live by such a radical faith that could eventually cost me my life?

                And so what is the conclusion?  The Christian life, if properly lived in faith, should never be boring or safe.  It is radical.  It is crazy. It is insanely risky.  And, to the non-believer, it is foolish.  But Hebrews 11:32-38 is not a description that bores its readers.  Rather, it captivates them and puts to question the integrity of their Christian living.  It shakes even the most solid of Christians to the core.  And so I will say to you so-called Christian who makes casual observers think that following Jesus is boring that you have misrepresented what it means to follow Jesus Christ and live like Him.  Our problem is not weakness.  Rather, it is wimpiness.  The life of faith is something so radical in what it is willing to accomplish and willing to endure that it holds the attention of the watching world!

                A few years ago, my wife and I were engaged in a conversation with one of our close family friends while on a trip to Montreal.  The conversation arose from his asking what my family was up to (what we’re doing in church) and why we do what we do?  This friend – he will remain anonymous – is not a Christian, and was inquisitive as to why our family lived the way we did.  Deep into the conversation, I looked at him and asked:

                “Do you think we’re crazy?”  To this, he responded:

                “Honestly, yeah, I think you guys are crazy.  I respect you guys and the way you live your lives, but still.  I don’t think I would ever have the guts to live the way you guys live.  It’s too much risk, and I’d lose too much.  I love my life too much,” (paraphrased).

                It only assured me that we were living the right way. 

Let there be no strange god among you; nor shall you worship any foreign god.  I, the LORD, am your God, who brought you up from the land of Egypt; open your mouth wide and I will fill it.

~Psalm 81:9-10

            I can remember several weeks where an observing bystander would have characterized me as busy and active for the Lord.  I found myself locked in such a period not too long ago, where my body and mind were engaged in the things of God.  As a Christian – and more specifically as a pastor – I do wholly admit to being sold out for the purposes of God.  I don’t say this out of pride, but rather out of personal conviction and commitment.  There were specific weeks when I found myself extremely busy doing the work of the Lord.  One moment, I’m intensely preparing a sermon – exegeting Greek and Hebrew verses, while laboring to form the outline.  The next moment, I’m sitting across a younger man locked in an intense discipleship meeting.  One hour, I’m analyzing the church excel files trying to figure out the best way to structure the ministries under my belt.  The next hour, I’m pouring my heart out on the pulpit – trying to encourage a group of believers in front of me to love the Lord.  One minute, I’m in a leadership meeting.  The next minute, I’m leading praise music.  While I’m externally engaged in the work of God, I’m internally contemplating the will of God.  In everything from what to say in the next sermon to what to eat for lunch, my mind is actively considering what it is that the Lord would want.  Thus, with a body running around and a mind in intense thought, it appears as if I may be spiritually flourishing.  If there was such a thing as the most-active-church-member award, I would be in the running.

            Yet, experience has revealed to me that it’s also during these weeks that I’m most prone to spiritually famine.  I’ve realized that it’s during the periods when my life is so busy with the Lord’s things that I’m in most danger of having a malnourished soul by the end.  And no, it’s not the work of the Lord that drains my soul.  During these periods, it’s not my activity that drains me, but rather my lack of activity.  It’s because during these times, I become so occupied with thinking about the work of God and the will of God, that I forget to consider God Himself.  My mind and body end up being so occupied with the things of God, while my spirit ends up neglecting knowing God Himself.  Thus, I end up having done a lot more things, without having grown in intimacy with the One Himself whom my soul was designed to be in a relationship with.  Like the husband who worked hours and hours to earn money to provide for his wife and labored for hours to fix things around the house and yet completely neglected spending time with her, so my soul realized that it has a craving not only for God’s approval, but for God’s person Himself.    

            I realized that, more often than not, it’s easier for me to obey God when He reveals to me what He wants than to adore Him when He reveals to me who He is.  Often times, in my relationship with Christ, I’m more consumed with imitation of Him than intimacy with Him.  Yet, when the Scriptures juxtapose worship and idolatry – particularly in Psalm 81 – the juxtaposing picture to idolatry is the portrait of one who opens his mouth towards God and longs for Him to fill it.  It’s a picture of a man who recognizes that his soul is – apart from knowing God intimately – nothing but famished.  He starves not for God’s blessings, but for God Himself.  He is one who desires not only to do things for God, but to be with God and to know Him.  From this same hunger, another psalmist cries in Psalm 42, “As the deer pants for the water brook, so my soul longs after You.”  A worshipper is one who wants nothing less than God Himself.  He finds his hope and joy not in his own obedience and faithfulness, nor does he find it ultimately in God’s people.  Rather, though his life is multi-faceted externally in all the different things that He is involved in, his passion is absolutely singular. 

But if God calls this man to worship Him by opening his mouth wide for Him, then it follows that the idolater is one who seeks fulfillment from anyone or anything else but God Himself.  How scary it is to think, then, that idolatry can take place even when one is invested in the things of God.  Though service flows out of worship, service doesn’t necessarily equate to worship.  It is a sobering thought to think that the person who is busy doing God’s work can be, at that very moment, void of worshipping God.  It’s easy to think that when one is busy with church work, one is worshipping God.  Yet, the person who finds His fulfillment in his own work and in his own realization that he is obedient or faithful is the person who is worshipping himself, and not God.  The person who finds more happiness in God’s people than in God Himself is one who worships people and not God.  The heart of a true worshipper is one that is – in the midst of the busyness of his labor – completely still and in awe of God’s grandeur and majesty and beauty at all times.  He is the one who can honestly say from his inner core that the one longing in his heart that he seeks is to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord in full-fledged intimacy with Him. 

            Understanding worship from this angle has humbled me, and only made realize further how void my heart is of true worship at times.  It sobers me in realizing just how much I’ve failed to love God as I should.  It’s humbling to see how many idols I still have in my heart – even as a pastor who has invested his life fully into God’s work.  It’s saddening to know that sometimes, I’m still prone to making idols out of God’s people and God’s ministry rather than truly worship God’s Son.  But it only helps me understand His perfect patience towards a child who, though imperfect, He loves and has promised to grow to the image of His Son.  So let us put away these strange and foreign gods among and inside of us.  May we open up the mouths of our souls to the Almighty and Everlasting God Himself, and let Him fill it.

~Philippians 3:7-8

I have always mentioned Philippians 3:7-8 as a theme verse of my life – that the overwhelming desire that has fueled and directed me in life is the singular passion to know Christ more intimately.  I would listen to sermon after sermon in which the pastor or speaker would exhort from the Scriptures the importance of personal devotion to Christ – and how genuine worship to Christ is far more important than engaging in activity without knowing Him.  Yet, as much as I had wanted to know Christ more intimately, I found it difficult to know how to do so.  I’ve given myself to His work and committed myself to full-time ministry, and I’ve committed myself to knowing His will through the Scriptures and obeying His every word every time I encountered them.  Yet, as much as I wanted to know His commandments, I wanted to know HIM.  As much as I wanted to obey His will, there was a greater desire to delight in His person.  I wanted to do all things for the glory of Christ, yet I was having trouble understanding what His glory really meant.

And so, during the tail-end of 2009, I set a resolution that I believed would help me get to that point: I resolved to, under the guidance and discipleship of the Holy Spirit, read the four gospels in their entirety…in the original Greek language.  It was a daunting task, and some dismissed my desire to read the Bible in its original language consistently as being of “typically seminarian.”  Yet, I didn’t set the task for the sake of sharpening my Greek (although it certainly did).  I set the task for the sake of knowing Christ more intimately.  So on December 15, 2009, while on a family retreat at Big Bear Lake, I opened my Greek Bible up to the gospel of Mark and began to read.  First Mark, then John, then Luke, and finally Matthew.  Each morning, I’d take a section of anywhere between five to fifteen verses and meditate upon the reading via journaling.  Reading it in the Greek meant that I had to read a lot more slowly, and thus quiet times not only took much longer than they did before, but also took a much greater effort of concentration and intellectual interaction.  Finally, on September 6, 2011, I finished reading the gospel of Matthew – and thus all four gospels in the language.

Quite frankly, it was the richest study through the Scriptures that I have yet to experience.  As the Spirit would take me through each portion of reading, He would reveal to me more and more about the person of Christ.  For the first time in my life, I found myself intently observing not only what Christ called me to do, but also His very ways.  The more I observed what He said and what He did, the more I became aware of just exactly what my Savior is like.  I’d see Him so moved with compassion towards those in need, yet so justly furious towards the hypocrisy of the Pharisees.  I’d see Him so purposeful in completing His ministry tasks given by the Father, yet so accommodating to people.  I’d observe His authority in His speaking alongside His humility in serving.  I’d see Him show His hatred for sin, yet His love for sinners.  I’d see Him so faithful to the Father’s task, and so sacrificial towards His Father’s sheep.  I’d see Him in His humanity falling asleep through storms because of fatigue, yet also in His deity rebuking them.  I’d observe Him preach with authority such that the crowds would hang onto to His very words, and yet also watch Him humbly was the filthy feet of His twelve disciples.  I’d watch Him honor the government by paying taxes, and yet go against cultural protocol by conversing with a Samaritan woman.  I’d listen to Him warn His disciples about the cost of following Him, yet also see Him gather them upon a mountain to give them rest from ministry.  I’d notice His publicity in ministry, yet His privacy in prayer.  I’d see how He would meet the needs of people, and yet not their expectations.  I’d observe Him remain silent when mocked by His accusers, yet cry in anguish when forsaken by His Father.  So holy He was, yet also so approachable.  So resolved He was to finish His Father’s tasks, yet so interruptible He was by those who truly needed Him.

The more the Spirit led me through these accounts, the more and more my heart was convinced that there is none like Him.  Throughout His life, He displayed authority, power, humility, discipline, integrity, courage, tenderness, resolution, faithfulness, conviction, wisdom, discernment, authority, and sacrificial service in a way that I have never witnessed. There was a combination of tenderness and toughness, grit and gentleness, faithfulness and flexibility, authority and abasement that made an impression on my heart that kept me both encouraged and off balance upon my observance.  I’d see His absolute authority as God, and would be filled with both fear and joy.  I’d see the perfection of His person, and would grow saddened upon realizing just how sinful I really am, yet so comforted by the fact that He lived the life that I never could.  The more I read about Him, the more my heart was affected to truly love Him.  I truly began to see, to a fuller extent, the true identity of my Savior.  He truly is the Suffering Servant in whose steps I must walk, the Son of God in whom I must believe, the Son of Man before whom I must abase myself, and the Sovereign King whose kingdom I must live for.

Wisdom is vindicated by her children

~Matthew 11:20

I’d like to say that Kathy and I had a more dramatic story as to how we named our son.  We’d like to say that we did our research as to what his name truly meant and represented.  In reality, we named him after the famous child actor, Jaden Smith, upon spotting his name atop a billboard for the movie The Karate Kid while on a date at the Irvine Spectrum (Kathy had said that “Christopher” went well as a complement to “Jayden,” hence his middle name).  But the morning after he was born, I did some research concerning the actual meaning of his name – using the Greek and Hebrew language skills that I had learned from seminary a few years back.  After some careful study (I had to, due to the number of phony websites that google provides for name searches), I turned my seat around to look at Kathy – reclined on the hospital bed – and said rather proudly:

“If you put his first and middle name together, it means, ‘He will vindicate the one who bears Christ.”

I’ve learned, since then, that his name serves as God’s reminder to me daily to trust in His ways amidst the criticism that I’ve had to face over the years.  I anticipated and accepted the reality that upon investing my life into the direction of pastoral ministry, I’d receive criticism from all points of the spectrum of relationships – family, friends, Christians, non-Christians.  So I prepared myself for such, and my preparation was not done in vain.  Upon revealing my decision to enroll in seminary, I was criticized by some for wasting my life and being youthfully whimsical.  When I decided to commit to commuting from San Diego to L.A. for classes, I was criticized for being irresponsible in caring for my body, my education, and my time.  When I first began to serve as a youth pastor, there were those who questioned why, during our Bible studies, I allotted more time to the teaching and less time to games and activities.  When Kathy and I were dating, I was criticized for my lack of affection for her due to the physical boundaries I had set to protect our purity.  When we decided to postpone our wedding for the second time, I was criticized for caring too much about the church.  When we decided to finally get married apart from her parents’ approval, I was criticized for dishonoring her parents and setting a bad example for those who were watching me.  When we decided to move to San Jose to take part in the church-plant effort, I was told that I was criticized for being unwise.  When we decided that I would fly back and forth from San Jose to L.A. to finish up my last semester, I was criticized for being irresponsible in caring for my family.  Some have criticized me for committing to a disciplined eating and exercise schedule (which I did for the sake of ministry), while others have been more critical about the fact that I chose to commit to reading my Greek and Hebrew Bible consistently so as to not lose the skills I learned in seminary.  Then there were those who criticized me for investing my life into discipling the number of young men that I did, saying that the fact that I met up with guys individually would set me up for a frustrating marriage.  Many have simply come to the conclusion that I’m this rash, impulsive kid who makes really unorthodox decisions that in the end aren’t wise or practical.

I realize that, no matter where you go, there are always going to be those who will be critical of your lifestyle, your decisions, your methodologies, and your ministry.  Jesus was absolutely aware of that, when He walked our planet as a humble man.  Wherever He went, there followed His critics – the Pharisees and the religious establishment – who scrutinizing every and anything that He did.  They had criticized His older cousin and forerunner, John the Baptist, for being on one end of the social spectrum, while they criticized Him for apparently being on the other end.  Jesus knew that both He as the Son of God and John as His forerunner had lived their lives in a manner that honored the Father, and that they had unjustly received the kind of criticism that they had.  Yet, Jesus understood the reality of the presence of such criticism, and did not lose sleep over it.  Instead, He simply said: “Wisdom is vindicated by her children” (Matthew 11:20).  In other words, for those who have truly sought to live in the ways of God, their wisdom will be proven by the outcome of their lives.

I realize that wisdom will prove itself over time by the fruit that she produces in the lives of those who walk in her ways.  I realize this both principally as well as experientially.  I’m not saying that I’m perfect – all know that I am far from such and never pretend to be perfect.  Yet, I can honestly say that, when it comes to all of the major life decisions and spiritual convictions and disciplines, ever since I stepped into full-time ministry, I have been controlled by a fear of the Lord.  I don’t do what I do because I believe that it will further my reputation, make me stand out, or help me achieve some self-gratifying goal.  Despite what my critics might say, I don’t do things rashly or impulsively.  If anything, those who know me best have told me that I tend to overthink things and can be overly cautious.  But that’s all because deep down in my heart, the fear of the Lord controls me.  My greatest fear in life is making a decision or setting myself in a pattern of life that would dishonor His name and His gospel.  On the flip side, my ambition in life is to be pleasing to God.  I can honestly say that, though at times I have lacked experience and practice, I have always done what I have done out of an honest desire to be conformed to the Word of God and the wisdom of God.  Therefore, amidst all the criticism, I need not to defend myself.  My life will do the talking.  I know that, in my heart, I really have set all areas in life in a trajectory to honor Christ and not myself.  And I believe that, up to this point at least, the fruit of my life has indeed proven that God has blessed it.  People can argue with my methodologies and decisions, but they cannot argue with the outcome.  That goes the same for any believer who encounters much criticism from all ends amidst trying to bring glory to God.  Following Christ will always bring about criticism – both from believers and non-believers – but the fruit cannot be argued against.  The Christian is not called to defend his wisdom with his words.  Rather, he is to let his life do the talking.

Jimmy Evert, the father and coach of the famous tennis champion Chris Evert, was once asked about what he thought about the style with which his daughter played.  His daughter Chris had opted, as a young child, to hit her backhand with two hands instead of one – an unorthodox style back in the era in which she played.  Jimmy questioned his daughter’s playing style…that is, until she proved herself with herself.  Chris not only became one of the most decorated tennis players of all time, but it was her two-handed backhand that was her signature shot and most efficient weapon.  After winning 154 titles, 18 grand slams, and holding the #1 ranking for over 250 weeks, Jimmy commented concerning his early criticism concerning his daughter’s opting to use the two-hander: “I hoped she’d change…But how can I argue with her success?”

Remember…”Jayden Christopher.”

Are we beginning to commend ourselves again?  Or do we need, as some, letters of commendation to you or from you?  You are our letter, written in our hearts, known and read by all men; being manifested that you are a letter of Christ, cared for by us, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.

~2 Corinthians 3:1-3

Graduating from The Master’s Seminary was, in many aspects, a very “normal” graduation.  Take away from the fact that it was an event celebrating the completion of training in which men from all different ages, races, and socio-economic backgrounds were trained to handle the very Word of God with precision and accuracy, the logistical aspects of the ceremony were typical of any other graduation – whether it be one amongst high school youth or graduate-school scholars.  There was the marching of the graduates upon that famous graduation song, the wearing of the caps and the gowns, the handing awarding of the diplomas (in our case, they were merely certificates as the diplomas were to be sent through the mail), words of exhortation and encouragement by the institution’s president, and a flurry of flowers, cheers, and kisses from the graduates’ family and friends.  Oh, and did I forget to mention that those students who graduated with honors were granted the privilege to wear golden sashes over their shoulders?  I must also mention that each of these students were recognized upon their receiving of their diplomas regarding their having graduated with honors – specifically whether they graduated “cum laude,” “magna cum laude,” or “suma cum laude.”  The morning after, when Kathy and I were conversing about the ceremony in the elevator as we were getting ready to check out of our hotel, she asked me about the golden robes and the recognition of those who graduated with honors.

“So what exactly does it mean when a student from the seminary graduates with honors?” she inquired.  Recalling Dr. Mayhue’s explanation, I responded:

“It means that a student graduated with a G.P.A. equal to over a 3.6.  If they graduated with a 3.7, they graduate cum laude.  If they graduate with a 3.8, they graduate magna cum laude.  And if they graduate with a 3.9, they graduate suma cum laude.”  She looked at me with a somewhat puzzled look.  I suppose she was trying to make the connection between high G.P.A.’s and faithfulness in the kind of ministry she had seen her husband engaged in for the last how many years.  After a few seconds, she made her conclusion.

“So…(referring to the honors graduates)…all it means is that they know how to study, right?”  It was to this that I soberly answered:

“Yep…and not much more than that.”

I had forgotten to mention that there was something extraordinary about that graduation ceremony; I had forgotten to mention that while it is not extraordinary for the institution’s president to give a message, the message that he gave was anything but ordinary.  The message he gave was a message from God’s holy Word – namely a message from 2 Corinthians 3:1-3.  It was Paul’s very own letter to the Corinthians, telling them the source of confidence that he held regarding the success and sincerity of his ministry:

“Are we beginning to commend ourselves again?  Or do we need, as some, letters of recommendation to you or from you?  You are our letter, written in our hearts, known and read by all men; being manifested that you are a letter of Christ, cared for by us, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.”

How do you measure the success and sincerity of a minister?  How do you differentiate from a true pastor called by a God and a phony one out to pursue self-glory?  Was the fact that these men graduated the proof that they were now true ministers of the gospel?  Was completing a degree God’s stamp of commendation that these men were now fit for ministry?  Even more, was the fact that some men graduated with honors an indication that these men were more fit – more called by God – for the ministry than others?  If we are to be honest with ourselves, we tend to measure success in ministry at times by things like golden robes and diplomas – commendations made by man which are, while by no means evil, merely temporary.  In the end, what is the measure by which a man be commended for his ministry?  Which ministry is to be commended, and which one to be rejected?  How does the sovereign God measure the integrity of a man’s ministry?  Is not the question that 2 Corinthians 3:1 asks?  “Are we beginning to commend ourselves again?  Or do we need, as some, letters of recommendation to you or from you?”  What is the proof, that a man has a ministry that God would find commendable?

The answer – seen so clearly in 2 Corinthians 3:2-3 – is simple.  The commendation of a man’s ministry is the growth of the people to whom he has ministered.  “Success” in ministry is not measured by GPA’s, diplomas, or any other man-made awards that are here in this life and will burn in the next.  The pastor who graduated with a 4.0 is, from this slice of the pie, no more successful than the pastor who graduates with a 2.0.  While it can be proven that the former is a better test-taker and paper-writer, the measure of their ministries comes not from their grades, but rather from the growth in holiness of those to whom they have preached and ministered God’s Word.  A pastor who has had his official pastoral title for 40 years is no more of a success than one who has had it for 4 years; all it means is that the latter is older.  The question is not how long one has been in the ministry, or how good he is as a preacher.  The question is, “to what degree as the people to whom he ministers conformed to Christ?”

When judging the sincerity someone’s ministry – whether it be your pastor’s or your own – the focus should not be on the external accomplishments that can be written on paper and then later thrown in the trash.  The focus should be on the people.  How do you know that, in your ministry, you are indeed excelling in what you are doing and are commended by God?  First, stop looking at yourself and how good you may think you look.  Second, look at the people to whom you minister.  Have they grown?  Are they learning to flee from worldliness and daily learning to pursue holiness?  Have they given up earthly treasures for eternal ones?  It doesn’t matter if they think your sermon was good.  What matters is if your sermon helped them to change.  It doesn’t matter if your ministry esteems the way they think about you.  What matters is if your ministry humbles the way they think about themselves.  It is of less concern if they think that, through your ministry, you are a true man of God (though this may still be important).  What matters more is if they, through your ministry, are ever-so striving to be men and women of God themselves.  A good preacher is measured not by his oratory skills, but rather the degree to which his people are convicted to submit to the Word of God.  To measure a pastor’s faithfulness, it matters not whether or not his church has a men’s ministry.  Instead, look at the lives of the men that he has discipled.  It matters not if what a pastor’s people think of him because of his ministry.  What matters more is what the pastor’s people think of Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.

Over the course of the last four years, I have personally had a chance to formally invest in and individually disciple twenty-four men and counting.  So often, people approach me and say, “JR, that’s crazy that you disciple so many guys.”  To this, I never respond with comments such as, “Well, you know, I’m just an awesome guy, aint I?  Who else has discipled twenty-plus guys individually?”  Such a response would be foolish and self-deceiving.  Instead, my normal responses are more along the lines of: “It’s amazing to see how _______ has grown.  I met him when he was a really young believer.  Now, he’s my ministry partner!”  Quite frankly, I don’t care how many men I can say I’ve had a chance to meet up with (I only started counting because people keep asking).  My greater concern is whether or not the men I have discipled are now able to live their lives apart from my ministry in a manner that truly brings honor to Jesus Christ.  I find my commendation not in my GPA (though I did get to wear that golden sash) nor in the number of sermons that I’ve preached nor in the number of small groups I’ve led nor in the number of ministries I oversee nor in the number of men who I discipled and am discipling.  I didn’t go to The Master’s Seminary to get a diploma, nor did I go to somehow attain the pastor title.  I went so that I would be equipped to minister the Word of God to the people of God, that they may worship and be conformed to the Son of God.  I find my commendation in this, and in this alone: “Are the men and women to whom I have ministered loving Jesus Christ and looking like Jesus Christ more today than they were when I first began to minister to them?”