Is my joy an evidence of spirituality,
or merely a byproduct of ease in life?
Earlier this year, I read Mere Christianity. Many quotes resonated with me, but this one in particular shot an arrow that is still hitting the target of my soul:
“Most of the man’s psychological makeup is probably due to his body: when his body dies all that will fall off him, and the real central man, the thing that chose, that made the best or worst out of this material, will stand naked.
All sorts of nice things which we thought our own, but which were really due to a good digestion, will fall off some of us: all sorts of nasty things which were due to complexes or bad health will fall off others.
We shall then, for the first time, see every one as he really was. There will be surprises.”
Several weeks ago, the quote above was playing on the soundtrack of my mind while I read a chapter about sin in this book. These thoughts and readings drove me to ask God this question:
“God, am I spiritual? Or just comfortable?”
The very next morning, my husband and four kids were leaving for school, and I planned to follow them out the door about fifteen minutes later.
Only that’s not what happened.
Instead, inexplicably and without the faintest warning, our car wouldn’t start. It was determined that, instead of me driving separately, we would all leave together, and we needed to leave ASAP so our kids wouldn’t be late for school. This was all fine and dandy except for one thing: I had sopping wet hair and it was quite cold outside. My husband was upbeat despite the car issue, giving thanks for the fact that we had a working van. I, on the other hand, contributed an icy silence that matched my icy head.
I Think I Have My Answer
After a bit of time for my temper to cool off and my head to warm up (thank you, panera hand dryer), I sheepishly said to Jonathan, “Remember I told you about how I asked God yesterday whether I was spiritual or comfortable? I think I have my answer.”
In that moment of sheer frustration over an impaired car, an adjusted timetable, and a head of wet and cold hair, I got a further education on the state of my soul. One might even say that while we were looking under the hood of our car, the Lord was giving me a chance to look under the hood of my soul.
You might say that it’s natural to get frustrated by unexpected car issues; you’re right. But that’s the point: spiritual living is not natural. My natural desires are diametrically opposed to the Spirit’s desires (Galatians 5:16-17). Spirituality does not show its true colors during times of comfort and ease, but in times of discomfort, annoyance, and even heartache.
Spirituality Looks Like Dependence
Spiritual living isn’t about perfection; it’s about living in complete dependence on God, even in moments of frustration. If I’m dependent on the Spirit, I can manifest the fruit of the Spirit regardless of my circumstances. This is why age tends to be a true test of a person’s character. As loss of abilities and addition of pain overcome a person, who they truly are without the presence of those comforts is made clearer. Some of the most beautiful people I know are older saints who model what it looks like to live in fuller and fuller dependence on God. Even as their outer self fails, their inner self is being renewed every day (2 Cor. 4:16).
The attributes of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control are only sustainable when they truly are the outworking of the Spirit’s work in my heart (Gal. 5). If I only evidence these qualities when things in my life are going the way I want them to go, then perhaps my so-called spirituality is not so much spiritual as it is comfortable.
“Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.”
—John 15:4-5
God, grant me a spiritual depth that’s completely dependent on you.