Regeneration

Becoming whole.

First, Friday

I wish I could slow this week down. Easter Sunday will be here soon enough, but you and I need Good Friday first.

The chronic suffering all around us reveals it’s true.

Sunday proclaims the hope of resurrection, but when we rush past Jesus’ crucifixion, our hope becomes too small to carry the real weight of the world in which you and I live.

Good Friday, entering into the crucifixion, sharing in Christ’s suffering (Romans 8:35-37, 1 Corinthians 4:10-11, Philippians 3:8-11), leads the way to resurrection.

And oh, we need resurrection. We need it so much, so tangibly, so actively, in fact, that we dare not hurry past Good Friday.

A couple I know spent six months last year praying nearly 24-7 in the hospital room of a woman the doctors said wouldn’t live a week. This husband and wife believe in the resurrection and so, in a very real way, they entered into their own season of sacrifice in prayer for another. (She walked out of the hospital earlier this year.)

Last fall, I met an elderly pastor and his wife who trained to become foster parents so they could take in the baby of a drug-addicted young woman who intermittently visited their parish. That baby girl is now a teenager and still living with them. Her mom is also still in their lives, and still battling her addictions. Reflecting on his situation, the pastor said, “This is not how I envisioned my retirement.”

“Sentimental, overly ‘spiritualized’ love is not capable of the sustained, unconditional agape of Christ shown on the cross. Only from the perspective of the crucifixion can the true nature of Christian love be seen, over against all that the world calls ‘love.’” – Fleming Rutledge, The Crucifixion

He and his wife are allowing the fabric of their lives to take the shape of Jesus’ suffering for another. They are choosing to live for resurrection rather than for retirement.

I know moms and dads who have walked long with their own kids through mental illness, addictions, and other chronic problems. I remember one adult daughter talking about the morning her dad found her half-asleep on a couch the morning after yet another drug-infused party. She still doesn’t know how he found her there, but she remembers how he gently kissed her forehead before placing a warm breakfast sandwich beside her and turning to go.

Each of these is an example to me of living a cruciform life—a life that is taking the shape of the crucifixion because of the hope of resurrection.

Without taking up our own cross and following Jesus (Luke 14:27), without letting the days of our lives become increasingly cruciform in nature, we reveal our own lack of belief in the reality of the resurrection (no matter what we profess on Easter Sunday).

It’s easier just to pray from a distance or not to pray at all. It’s easier to assume healing won’t come. It’s easier to think someone younger or more qualified will do it. It’s easier to box Christianity into a Sunday service, a ten percent tithe, and morning devotions where resurrection becomes a metaphor for achieving a bit of the American dream.

Sunday without Friday leaves the terminal dying, the sick hurting, the sinners returning to their sin, the mourners grieving alone. Skipping over Good Friday means leaving Jesus Himself sick, sinful, and alone on the Cross (Matthew 25:45).

I know the difference others’ cruciform living has made in my broken and hurting life, so I’m talking to myself here.

The hope of Easter is not some kind of confetti to throw from a distance at the sick, sinful, and suffering. “It’ll be okay! Happy Easter!” The hope of Easter is entering into the death that Jesus died for the whole world on Good Friday, it’s actively taking on a cruciform life because sickness, sin, suffering, and death need no longer intimidate us.

Leave a comment below.

In hope,
Josh

Your Head Can’t Save You

In C.S. Lewis’ book That Hideous Strength, one of the arch-villains is a decapitated head. Men fear and bow before “the Head” as they would a god. Pretty grizzly stuff.

We live in an age where mankind exalts our own heads.

Ask people what separates us from the animals (or “other animals”), and many will say it’s our intelligence. Ask a political leader of either major party how they’re going to solve our chronic social problems, and most will include something about education. It’s as though we collectively genuflect at the uncontested saying, “knowledge is power.”

I get it. We are smarter than the animals, good education is a help to much of what ails us, and knowledge does empower. But really? Is human intellect really the biggest thing that separates us from animals? Is education really the only solution to our social problems that we can agree on? And is knowledge always power?

Even within Christendom, where we hold as foundational that we cannot save ourselves, you’ll still find an exalted veneration of knowledge seeping into what we say and do. Could this be why so many of our churches place the teaching at the center of our Sunday services and Bible “study” at the center of our mid-week gatherings?

Certainly, godly teaching and Bible study are crucial to Christian discipleship, and I am for churches doing a better, not lesser, job at these. Even so, it is Scripture that teaches us our thinking cannot save us, even our right thinking about God.

Jesus told the religious of his day, “You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; it is these that testify about Me; and you are unwilling to come to Me so that you may have life” (John 5:39, 40).

Apparently, we can know about God without knowing God, we can gather around His words without coming to Him, we can identify Him on the page without recognizing His face.

Thank God for hunger.

For the religious and rebellious alike, hunger can take us beyond trying to satiate our intellects and instead urges us to come to His actual table. It was hunger that drove the younger son to come home, but it was also hunger that brought the older son out of the fields.

For them and for me, real hunger can be hard to acknowledge, and harder still to accept an invitation to the table. To do so means my answers have fallen short, I don’t know Him as much as I should by now, I am malnourished and in need.

This is one of the reasons I love Lent. The ancient practice of fasting invites us beyond our know-how and into a place of simple hunger, where we find ourselves empty and needy.

Lent reminds me of my hunger and affirms my hunger is good.

Augustine said, “The entire life of a good Christian is in fact an exercise of holy desire. You do not yet see what you long for, but the very act of desiring prepares you, so that when he comes you may see and be utterly satisfied.”

Hungry,
Josh

This Is My Body

He wouldn’t stop punching me in the arm. Hard. Again and again and again.

I was 9 and to this day I remember the details. It was recess and I was outside the classroom on the blacktop underneath the basketball hoop. I was wearing my favorite winter coat, a hand-me-down, dark blue Dallas Cowboys letterman-style jacket with metal snaps and greyish silver sleeves.

There were kids running and playing around us. I don’t remember where my friends were. I don’t know where the teachers were. I remember that all I could think to do was to try to pretend it didn’t hurt.

It did.

It wasn’t the first or the last time Tim (I remember his name, too) would use his greater height, weight, and strength to put me in my place. I knew the pecking order. He would remind me.

When I reflect on my 47-year journey, my body’s been through a lot. I’ll bet yours has, too. Perhaps much more.

During this Lenten season, Christians around the world make their way toward the Cross. Rich and poor alike, young and old together, men and women of all races we travel side by side. Bruised from punches, weary from walking, calloused from labor, flinching from abuses past, pulled by temptations present, skinned from falling, bent from burdens. We carry our infants, our weak, our wounded, our dead.

From this distance three weeks out, we can catch a hint of the lighted upper room where our truest Friend will break unleavened bread: “This is My body, given for you.”

For me, I walk this Lenten road because I remember that blacktop, the cruel smirk on Tim’s face, the silver coat sleeves hiding my pain.

But that’s not all I remember. I remember saying goodbye to my dad at age 3, throwing rocks at a smaller boy at 5, starting to drink at 13, hiding pornography at 17, my wedding night at 29, sitting helpless at my daughter’s hospital bedside at 38…

“Do this in remembrance of Me.”

I walk this Lenten road because I do remember. I walk to remember.

In prayer, I see myself at His cross. Bruised, beaten, broken, He remembers me, my body at 3, at 9…here, now.

Yours too.

I need this. My whole body needs this. I can feel it.

“This is My body, given for you.”

His words, so simple, so meaningful—reaching across the globe, sounding across the universe, filling all eternity.

Words not just to consider by intellect, but to heed: “Take, eat.”

Jesus, thank You. Thank You for giving Your body for my body. I need Your body!

Question: What’s one thing your body’s been through that needs the hope of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection?

Humbly,
Josh

How Does God Restore Sexuality?

When I was 22, I remember walking alone across my college campus late at night, ashamed and angry. I looked up at the stars and prayed out loud, “God, I know you love me, and I love you. I also know you hate what I’m doing and I hate it too. So why won’t you change me!?”

I’d been viewing pornography again, and sexual sin in my life was something I both hated and loved. I’d read books, tried prayer, confession, accountability, Scripture memory, resolutions and more resolutions, and nothing seemed to make a difference.

I felt like a man in a tiny canoe trying to paddle upstream in a powerful rushing river. I was exhausted.

How does God restore sexuality? Said differently, how do we change?

After nearly 20 years walking with people seeking sexual restoration, I think of five different categories worth paying attention to if you want to see changes in some area of your sexuality. (I’ll address these as they relate to sexuality, but I think they are components of change in nearly any life-dominating area.) Here they are:

Truth
To know what is true is to know what is real. When we buy ideas that are false, we attempt to live outside of reality, and living outside of reality can never lead to real health, freedom, or intimacy.

As a parallel, gravity does not change whether you know about it or not. But it’s best if you know about it because it will pull you with the same force whether you’re stepping on a path or stepping off a building. Likewise, reality is unmoved by what you think it is. It can always and only be what it is. Jesus taught his disciples, “If you continue in My word, then you are truly disciples of Mine, and you will know the truth and the truth will make you free” (John 8:31, 32).

Healing
As important as truth is, it isn’t enough to make you whole, anymore than gravity is enough to make you run. If your leg is broken, it needs to be physically healed. The unseen inner wounds people carry are no less debilitating in the areas of sexuality and relationships—wounds related to sense of worth, identity, belonging, security, agency, etc. I’m convinced this is why when three of the gospel writers recorded that Jesus healed a man covered with leprosy (see Mt. 8:2ff, Mk. 1:40ff, and Luke 5:12ff), they all pointed out that before He healed the man, He first touched him. Jesus was concerned with healing the man’s spirit, not just his body.

Deliverance
Sometimes our unwanted sexual behaviors have a demonic component to them. The enemy is after dominion, and one of the pieces of real estate he most desires to control (or at least influence) is the human person—that’s you and me.

One of the enemy’s assignments is to tempt us to sin. Jesus Himself was tempted by Satan (cf. Mt. 4:3ff), and Paul refers to the enemy as the “tempter” (1 Thes. 3:5). Beyond temptation, the enemy accuses, confuses, depresses, oppresses, and possesses whenever he can. And he doesn’t fight fair. He’ll use our wounds (see above) and sins as entry points into our lives.

And so, Paul wrote, “Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Eph. 6:11-12).

Growth
Just as every single one of us has to grow up physically, each of us must also grow up relationally, emotionally, spiritually, and yes, sexually. Growth is God’s path out of all manner of immaturity. You cannot be healed of immaturity nor be delivered from it. You must grow. At the same time, growth is not a passive activity, it requires our participation.

What’s more, where a person can be delivered from demonic oppression or supernaturally healed, growth is a different bird. It requires time and participation. A young man may desire to be a good husband one day, but nothing will grow him up as a husband more than being a husband.

Relationships
Human beings are relational creatures. In a very real sense, it’s in our genes. Who we are and how we thrive is all intimately connected to relationships. Likewise, sexuality is relational. Even for lifelong celibates who remain chaste, their capacity for sexual wholeness is directly correlated with their relational wholeness—their intimacy with God and with others. Want to become more sexually whole? Seek to become more relationally whole.

I put relationships as the last of these five categories, but if you look closely, you’ll see it’s actually a part of all the other four. Just as lies, wounds, demonization, and immaturity usually take root and grow in our lives through harmful, unhealthy, or unholy relationships; so truth, healing, deliverance, and growth all take root and grow in our lives through deepening intimacy (relationship) with God and His people.

In all these: Truth, Healing, Deliverance, Growth, and Relationships, God’s heart toward you is good and loving, always willing and working toward transforming you more and more into the man or woman He created you to be.

If we can help, let us know!

Question: Which of these five categories do you have the most experience with, and which of these may need more attention as you journey toward wholeness?

For you,
Josh

Giving More Than You Are

Comedian Jim Gaffigan describes what it’s like to have four children: “Imagine you’re drowning…and then someone hands you a baby.”

When my wife and I first heard this, we had just had our fourth and both of us almost jumped out of our seats, exclaiming “Yes! That’s exactly how it feels!”

We had already been giving so much, working so hard to keep our heads above water. How could we take care of another baby?

That feeling of drowning has diminished over time. What once seemed like it would pull us under no longer does. (My wife deserves most of the credit, for sure.) Now, a decade and a fifth child later, there’s not a one of our kids we would dream of living without.

What happened?

We grew.

In the midst of the struggle it felt like we were just surviving, sometimes on empty. Looking back now, it seems like there was a different kind of math at play. I’m used to a math that says 10-10=0. Give away what you have and now you have none.

Somehow, math in God’s Kingdom works differently.

“Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” (Luke 6:38)

Lent invites us to give not simply from our surplus, but to give sacrificially for the sake of others. Where fasting means we go without in order to intentionally hunger, giving sacrificially means we go without so someone else can have.

This is how Christ gives.

Why would God want us to give in this way? I think one reason has to do with Kingdom math. He wants us to grow, to become the men and women He created and redeemed us to be—to become like Jesus.

To be clear, I am not encouraging you to give so much that you increase your debt or go into debt. (Doing this would be “giving” someone else’s money, not your own.) Nor am I encouraging you to ignore the reality of your own emotional, physical, and spiritual limitations. He designed us with limits, people who need to rest and to receive. I acknowledge there is a tension here, God alone is the infinite One who is always able to pour out.

But this Lent, might I encourage all of us to give more than we feel we can—more of our money, our home, our goods, our time, our energy—as an act of faith that speaks to God and to our own souls:

Jesus, I have been waiting to have more, see more, and feel like more before stepping out to live a bigger, more giving life. Please grant me Your faith to look beyond the cross and trust that all I hold in my hands is not the sum of what I possess, and all I know myself to be is not the sum of who I am.

Leave a comment below: What’s one area of your life where you were at your limit that now you see God used to grow you to become more than you once were?

With you,
Josh

Merciful Hunger

You should see the way I look at a menu. It’s ridiculous. I peruse the whole thing, narrow down my options, then narrow those down again, then go back and forth weighing the remaining options. I think about calories, calculate cost, try to predict how I’ll feel when I’m done, and consider how likely I am to find each dish again anytime soon.

Sheesh, you’d think I was selecting someone to raise my kids.

The truth is, I have a hard time passing up something tasty. Especially when I’m hungry.

This is true not just in front of a menu. It’s true in life. Every day, there are so many “tasty” choices that present themselves to our senses. Being the hungry creatures we are, our senses long to indulge.

And more than not, we live in a culture that exalts indulging our senses. Rather than trying to grow up beyond infantile grasping for anything that looks good to us, our first solutions are usually more about how to have what we want without any negative consequences.

And so we’ve become a people of diet pills and diet desserts, designated drivers, credit lines, masturbation, and contraception.

I mean, why on earth would anyone ever pass up a something to eat when hungry?

The answer, of course, is because there’s another meal coming. A better one. One that satisfies. Really satisfies.

I’m afraid we’ve tried to remove the cost from Christianity, too. We’ve gutted our call to discipleship so the parts that cost us our lives become optional.

I mean, why give up my life if I can serve God adequately with my surplus?

The answer, again, is because there’s another life coming. A better one.

God invites all His children to grow past infantile grasping so we can be ready (hungry!) for the banquet He prepares. His invitation to hunger now is mercy. Or did you think it impossible to make yourself so full now that the fragrance of Heaven would make your stomach sick?

Brothers and sisters, we have been drinking the Kool-Aid of a world that says today is all we have, and all we’ll ever get is what we grab for ourselves here and now.

Lent invites us to hunger from earthly pleasures in anticipation of the aroma of Heaven.

Lent invites us to hunger so we can find hunger is not so much an enemy as we’ve been led to believe.

Lent invites us to give so we can find life apart from the things we’ve been holding tightly in our fists.

Lent invites us to look squarely at Jesus and to ask whether we really believe that He rose again, and so whether we really believe that death won’t be the end for us.

We do not say no for No’s sake. We say no because the great Yes is coming.

“And He summoned the crowd with His disciples, and said to them, ‘If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel’s will save it. For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world, and forfeit his soul?’” (Mark 8:34-36).

I’d love to hear from you. Leave a comment below.

Hungry,
Josh

What Only Hunger Can Do

Are you satisfied yet?

When I look around my home, my office, my schedule, my life, I see evidence everywhere that I am not. My fridge is full. So are my cabinets. My closet has items I haven’t worn in a year. I have stacks of books in my office—must-reads as well as a whole shelf marked “skim.” Too often, my calendar feels like I’m playing Tetris.

Then there’s my phone: that dinging, buzzing tile I keep nearby in case of emergency…or a few moments waiting in line.

I spend most of my life filling my time, my attention, my mind, my stomach. In truth, much of this is a desperate attempt to hide from myself how utterly hungry I am.

Enter Lent.

I lead a Christian ministry, I have a loving wife and kids, I enjoy so much of life, and I am blessed far beyond what I could ever deserve. So maybe this persistent hunger is bad PR, or scandalous, or a sign of spiritual immaturity.

Maybe.

But here’s the truth: There is a hunger none of this can fill, a loneliness no loved one can reach, an ache no food or drink or song or show can quench. And that hunger, that hunger can hurt to feel.

Thank God for Lent. Lent is meant to expose this hunger.

Lent is a season of reflection: What am I hungry for and where am I taking my hungers?

Lent is a season of mourning: Where have I sinned against God or others in my pursuit of satisfaction?

Lent is a season of repentance: Where do I need to turn from false gods—anything besides God Himself I’ve trusted to satisfy my deepest hungers?

Lent is a season of fasting: What will I go without that I might feel my hunger? What will I go without to make room for Christ, who alone can satisfy my deep, abiding hunger?

Most voices that fill our days will continue to say eat, drink, buy, read, join, click, watch, listen. But how much more information do you need? How much more money, entertainment, health, food, drink, belonging, experience, reassurance, or affection is enough?

Lent invites us to stop chasing more, and instead to go without.

Lent invites us into hunger not because God wants us to lack, but because we do lack already, immensely.

Lent invites us to hunger not because God doesn’t want us to enjoy the blessings He gives here and now, but so we might re-set our affections on the One who alone can fill our gaping emptiness.

Lent invites us to hunger because there are things only hunger can do. How will you hunger this Lent? Leave a comment below.

Unsatisfied,
Josh

Humble and Whole

Last week, we explored the surprising reality that although it seems like we have no control over the things preventing us from making the changes necessary to overcome our addictions, it’s actually more often the case that the crises themselves are a part of whatever addiction we’re wrestling.

I remember a time early in my recovery from pornography addiction when I had promised to housesit for a couple that had pornographic cable channels. When I came to my Regen support group a few days before I was to begin, I asked for prayer to resist temptation. My small group leader asked a poignant question: “Josh, what would you say to an alcoholic who had promised to spend the night in a liquor store?”

“I’d say he shouldn’t go,” I replied. “But I can’t back out now! It’s too late for them to find another house-sitter and they’re depending on me!”

I was in a crisis. But in his own way, my small group leader was uncovering the reality that I didn’t need to be, that I was in a crisis of my own making. Why had I agreed to housesit where there was pornography? Why had I waited until the last minute to talk with my recovery group about it? And why were my friends’ housesitting needs more important to me than gaining freedom from a problem that could destroy so much of what I held dear in life?

In truth, so often it’s not that something external is blocking our paths, but something internal. In my experience, that internal something is often connected to either pride or fear.

It’s not that I can’t afford to pay for therapy, it’s that talking to someone else about this hurts my pride.

It’s not that the men or women in my small group don’t understand, it’s that I don’t want to try what they’re challenging me to do.

It’s not that I’m too busy to use the gym membership I paid for, it’s that I am afraid of failing.

It’s not that I avoid telling my loved ones about my addiction to avoid disappointing them, it’s that it’s easier to live behind this mask I’ve created.

Instead of allowing crises to continue to derail your pursuit of wholeness, practice humility instead.

Humility means you have limits. As created beings, we all do. We have what we have, we don’t have what we do not.  And so to reduce chaos, we do well to live within the personal limitations we each have. Cease trying to spend more time, energy, or money you don’t have.

Humility also calls you to simplify. Give yourself permission to be on the journey toward wholeness – fully in. Yes, investing in wholeness now means saying no to other things, at least for a season, but today’s investment will pay dividends in the future that you will not regret.

Entrust to the Lord all that you cannot do today, take His hand, and follow. If we can help, let us know.

If you’ve been on a journey of change, growth, or addiction recovery, what’s helped you?

For you,

Josh

Using Chaos to Stay Stuck

Do you have a habit or addiction you’ve been trying unsuccessfully to break? If so, you might unwittingly be using chaos to keep yourself stuck.

Anytime we’re working to grow, we’re going to face resistance. Change, even good change, can be scary. The flesh, or the “old man,” offers a way out: chaos. If life gets too chaotic—if crisis comes, if the bottom falls out, if I get slammed with work—then I can’t keep doing the hard, scary work.

We see this regularly as we walk with men and women seeking freedom from sexual addictions, but it’s true for all manner of habits or hang-ups we try to break.

It is suspiciously common when a person attempts to grow and change to encounter difficulties, set-backs, and crises that seem to dictate he or she cannot continue:

I got a gym membership but work’s been so busy lately.

I dropped out of my support group because I didn’t want to keep disappointing everyone.

I know I need therapy but I just can’t afford it.

I’m going to tell my wife what I’ve been doing, but I need my marriage to be in a better place first.

I was going to ask my friend for accountability, but she’s been so happy recently, I don’t want to bring her down.

God’s been blessing my ministry so much I just can’t take the time to focus on that character issue in my life right now.

Are these legitimate excuses or the enemy whispering rationales to keep you stuck and possibly make matters worse?

As you consider, notice that many forms of chaos and crisis produce feelings very similar to feelings produced by our addictions:

Momentary thrill, excitement, an adrenaline rush

Mental busy-ness, confusion, distraction

Numbness from pain

Discouragement

Loneliness and isolation

Shame

Despair and helplessness

To me, these similarities make me wonder if maybe the chaos keeping us from recovery isn’t just the addiction itself in disguise.

Of great importance here is the fact that when chaos or crises strike, we are thwarted in our efforts to stay the course of recovery, of growing in Christian virtue, of practicing holy living. And so, they miss out, taking occasional sips where what they actually need is daily visits to clean water where they can drink deeply.

“Watch and pray that you may not undergo the test. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak” – Matthew 26:41.

“But it’s not my fault my car broke down when it did!”

“What should I have done? Quit my job?”

“Was I supposed to make everyone miserable because of my problem?”

“Do you think I asked for this?”

“Am I supposed to let everyone down?”

I’m simply asking you to consider whether the unanticipated busy-ness, crises, difficulties, or “blessings” might be your addiction in disguise. And if it might be, might you be (unwittingly) allowing it to keep you stuck?

Without coming under any condemnation, consider the events in your life that have detracted from your own personal journey of recovery, restoration, honesty, and growth over the years. Would you be willing to ask yourself, the Lord, and trusted others what they think?

Question for you: Where do you recognize chaos in your life in relation to your own “stuckness”? Is this chaos something you could ease or stop fueling?

Regeneration is ready to help you recognize and isolate the chaos that is hindering your progress towards freedom. Let us know if we can help!

For you,

Josh

Stop Agreeing with the Devil

If the devil walked up to you this morning with a contract in his hand and asked you to sign it, would you? I’m guessing you wouldn’t. You might not even read it. Even so, despite what you say, many of us actually do sign our names to binding agreements he writes for us all the time.

The enemy is too cunning to come at you the way I’ve described above. Instead, he looks for opportunities to sound like the voice of reason in the midst of chaos, a helper in your desperation, a friend to give compassion in a time of pain.

No matter that he may actually be behind the chaos, desperation, or pain, here’s how it works and what you can do about it:

First, you experience a real difficulty in your life. Whatever the source of the difficulty, it’s disruptive in your life.

A loved one dies even though you prayed they’d be healed.

The man of your dreams cheated on you.

You’ve tried for years to change your circumstances, but you’re where you were a decade ago.

Kids at school call you a wimp, a loser, or a queer.

You’re catching every red light when you’re already late.

Second, the enemy whispers an idea to you that seems to explain what you’re experiencing.

God doesn’t heal today.

You’ll never be good enough for a man like that.

God doesn’t care about you. You’re stuck.

Maybe I am a wimp, a loser, or a queer (whatever that means).

This is a terrible day.

When I say the enemy whispers an idea, he doesn’t identify himself first. In fact, one of his tactics is to impersonate others. The words above might sound like the voice of a pastor, your dad or mom, your own voice, or even God. Neil Anderson pointed out years ago that sometimes the enemy poses as our own voice, so we think we’re the ones thinking a thought when we’re actually being fed an idea by a malevolent voice that means us harm.

Third, you either accept or reject the idea. Accepting it means you give your assent—you internally give your nod of agreement. You switch every “you” and “your” to “I,” “me,” and “mine.” You’ve switched from a place of passive hearing to active thinking or speaking. Now the line is coming from your own voice.

Fourth, once you’ve accepted the idea, you act on it. You take a step to live as though the idea is true and reliable.

These third and fourth steps are the real problem. You may not realize what you’ve done, but by agreeing with the enemy, you’ve done something binding. It is akin to signing your name to that contract I told you about at the top of this post.

It can help to understand that, beginning with Adam and Eve, God has given people authority to rule:

“God blessed them; and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth.” (Genesis 1:28)

When the serpent came to them in the Garden and they took a bite of what he was selling, they in essence signed over their authority to rule to him.

At minimum, your thoughts and feelings, your body and your actions are all a part of your domain. When the enemy comes with a lie, he is trying to get you to take his counsel and establish a “rule of law” for how your domain, your kingdom, your life are going to operate—either under the ways of God or under the enemy’s ways.

This is why it matters what thoughts we allow to enter our mind. As Dallas Willard put it in Renovation of the Heart:

If we allow everything access to our mind, we are simply asking to be kept in a state of mental turmoil or bondage. For nothing enters the mind without having an effect for good or evil.…The power to choose our thoughts is, as we said at the outset, our most basic freedom, our first and primary freedom, and we must use it well.

The concept of a “self-fulfilling prophesy” is more than just a state of mind.

Too many of God’s children are living under faulty decrees in their lives with no idea that they don’t have to. Jesus came to take back the authority that the enemy has stolen through his lies. When we understand this, we can take our rightful place as those to whom He shares His authority and His Kingdom:

“I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you.” (Luke 10:19)

“All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth.  Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:18-20)

Last week, we started a new podcast series all about discovering and breaking unholy agreements in our lives. I hope you’ll listen. I think it will be incredibly helpful to you.

Leave a comment below.

For you,

Josh

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