CONFESSING MY SINS

Too often we in the Christian church tend to think of evangelism as communicating to the “lost” that they are sinners who need to repent and turn to Jesus.

But, if we want to talk about sinfulness I really think we have to be willing to start with our own.

Like, what if the way we did evangelism was to go out together, in groups of two or three, and find a stranger and pull them aside and say, “Hey, I just wanted you to know that I am a sinner and I really need Jesus in my daily life. Would you pray for me?”

Just imagine if we started the conversation by freely admitting our own need for Jesus like that. Wouldn’t that change the entire conversation? Wouldn’t that fulfill Jesus’s admonition to first deal with the beam in our own eyes before we attempt to remove the speck in someone else’s eye?

Today I was reminded once more that I am a sinner and that I need Jesus more than anyone else I know.

My failure was profound, and shameful, and it hurt some of the people I care most about in the whole world.

On one hand, I can see how God can take this failure and make something good out of it. 

If nothing else it shines a much-needed light into a dark place in my heart that still needs to be touched by Him and be transformed by His irresistible love. 

So, that is a good thing [the exposure of our sin, not the sin itself of course].

See, our sin flourishes in the darkness. When it comes into the light it dies. So, as painful as it is to look at it, our ugly sinful nature starts to die the moment we put it on display and call it by name.

Still, the shock of seeing our sin in the daylight isn’t comfortable. It’s painful and it’s wrapped tightly in a shroud of disappointment and heartache and failure. 

These emotions can easily overwhelm us if we do not quickly turn to Jesus and receive His forgiveness and experience the restoration that comes only from Him.

I've said it before: our walk with Jesus is a process. Thankfully we don’t fall down the entire journey, but on those [hopefully] rare occasions that we do, He is quick to turn our failures into opportunities to grow, and somehow to work it all into our ongoing transformation into people who look and act and love like Him.

It’s not about getting it perfectly right. It’s not about never stumbling or falling on our face. It's about humility. It’s about admitting we need His help and giving each other Grace to keep going. 

So, if we really want to speak the Truth in love, then our message to others can't be, "You're a filthy sinner and you need Jesus". Instead it should really be, "Hey, I'm a filthy sinner and I need Jesus. Please pray for me.”

Our invitation to others should be to ask them to join us as we follow Jesus daily and seek His face and partake of His mercy and grace.

If we did this, it would not only place the emphasis where Jesus put it - on following Him daily and surrendering our will to His – it would also force every single one of us to admit our need for Jesus, regardless of how long we’ve been a Christian or much we’ve studied the scriptures.

Our calling, ultimately, is to love people, and that can only be done in relationship. This relationship will best reflect Christ if it is marked by a heaping helping of love and forgiveness for one another. 

God will convict people of their sins just fine without us - because that's what He said He would do.

Plus, He specifically told us that it is not our place to convict people of their sins. 

His new command to us was simply this: “Love others as I have loved you.”

That seems like more than enough of a challenge to me, don't you agree?

Because, if we love people we make room for the grace of God to touch their hearts. 

If we judge people, our condemnation becomes a barrier and a veil that makes it very hard for them to see the love of Jesus in us. And if they can’t see the love of Jesus in us, please tell me where they supposed to see it?

“Hello. My name is Keith. I am a sinner and I really need Jesus in my life. Please pray for me.”

-kg

Spectacular Fail Or Abiding Life?

"Why do you call me, 'Lord, Lord' and do not do what I say?" - Jesus (Luke 6:46)

A few days ago I suggested to a friend of mine that should consider the words of Jesus regarding love for enemies before he continued to express his hatred for Muslim people.

Not only did my friend not take that advice very well, he quickly accused me of being a "self-righteous Pharisee" and said that Jesus "opposed" being a Pharisee.  Before I could respond he un-friended me and ended the conversation.

I could write a blog about how wrong my friend was in this case. I could go on and on about the irony of his using Jesus' distaste for Pharisees to justify an opposition to the practice of urging a fellow Christian to obey the words of Jesus, when what Jesus commanded was that we teach one another to obey all that he commanded. But I won't.

Instead, I'd like to talk about how I have failed to obey Jesus, even as I call him my "Lord."

It's too easy to react to the failures of others, isn't it? Peter was quick to point to the Apostle John and ask Jesus, "What about him?" when Jesus had just told Peter to follow him and feed his sheep.

And Jesus response to Peter is the same to you and to me: "What is it to you? Follow me!"

So, I have to examine my own heart first and when I do I realize that lately there have been several times when I have called Jesus "Lord, Lord" even though I was not doing what He said to do.

I have failed to love my neighbor as I love myself.
I've failed to risk my pride in order to serve someone else.
I've held back my money from those who asked for help because of my own selfishness.
I've joined in the gossip talk at work rather than walk away, or offer a positive perspective about the person being roasted.

That's just for starters.

Jesus sincerely wants us to follow Him. He absolutely expects us to put his words into practice. That's why, right after he spoke those words about calling him "Lord, Lord" he went on to tell this parable:

"For I will show you what the one who comes to Me and listens to My words, and puts them into practice is like: He is like a man building a house, who dug and went down deep and laid a foundation upon the rock; and when a flood arose, the torrent broke against that house and could not shake or move it, because it had been securely built or founded on a rock.
 
"But he who merely hears and does not practice doing My words is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation, against which the torrent burst, and immediately it collapsed and fell, and the breaking and ruin of that house was great." (Luke 6:47-49)

So, Jesus isn't vague about this. He warns us that our lives depend upon putting his words into practice. His words are life. But they are not simply words to be believed, or accepted as true. No. Jesus demands that those who follow him sincerely put his words into practice, daily.

I love when Jesus washes the disciples' feet on the night he is betrayed, and afterwards he sits back down and says:
"Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them." (John 13:17)

Knowing the truth isn't the same as doing it. Being a Christian isn't only about what you believe, it's actually more about what you do with the things you say you believe.

In other words, it's just as much about Orthopraxy (what you do), as it is about Orthodoxy (what you believe).

When another person fails so spectacularly at following Jesus, and runs hard in the opposite direction to avoid even discussing the possibility of putting Jesus' words into practice, it should not make us feel superior.

Far from it.

It should knock us to our knees. Not only to pray for our brothers and sisters who are building their lives on the sand, but to take a good, hard look into the mirror and honestly evaluate our own unwillingness to put the words of our Lord into practice.

We will only give an account of ourselves before the Lord for everything we have done or said in this life. What has been said in the darkness will come into the light. Every idle word will be proclaimed from the rooftops.

That is why I'm confessing my own failures and exposing my own areas of weakness, here and now.

I'm asking Jesus to come and live and breathe in me anew, and to empower me with His Spirit to love as He loves, give as He gives, serve as He serves, and live as He lives.

Like Paul, I forget the past and press on to the high calling of Christ. My hope is not in my own strength, but in His.

My confidence lies only in this: "When I am weak, then I am strong", for my own weakness "is the power of Christ at work in me." (2 Cor. 12:9-10)

Without Him, I can do nothing. But if He abides in me, and if I abide in Him, together we will bear much fruit.

What the world needs now are more Christians who are serious about taking the words of Jesus and putting them into practice.

Let the abiding begin.

-kg

COME AND DIE

Last night I woke up with this thought in my head: “To know more of Jesus you must be willing to share in his sufferings.”

I realized that this is part of what has held me back the last few months in my spiritual journey. I’ve known this was true and I was unwilling to pay that price.

Jesus made it very clear that anyone who would follow Him and become His disciple must take up his cross and daily die to self. Notice that Jesus doesn’t say that one must be willing to die daily, but that daily death is par for the course.

So far, I think I’ve only been willing to die, just as long as no one actually asks me to lay down and die upon the cross of humiliation, or shame, or embarrassment, or suffering. I’ve stopped short and stood on the door mat labeled “Willing” but not taken the actual step inside the threshold marked “Death”.

Instead of moving forward, I have padded my cross with comfort. I have done what I can to avoid discomfort and pain. I have pretended that it’s possible to follow Jesus without the cross. I have meandered along the narrow path without truly looking to Jesus as my guide.

It doesn’t do any good to look back down the path and ask for credit based on past sacrifices. What was done to get me to this place in the road is meaningless. It’s like trying to move closer to the sun by hopping on one foot. Sure, I’m technically closer to the sun when I’m at the apex of my jump, but the distance isn’t worth measuring. 


I am still stuck where I am on the path. Standing at the crossroads with my cross at my feet. I wonder if I have the strength to lift it again. I doubt that I could even carry it another foot without dropping it again. I just don’t think I have the strength within me to carry on.

As I pondered this truth, I was challenged to fall on my knees and pray. I confessed my weakness to God. I admitted my apathy and my weariness. I asked Him to fill me with courage and strength to embrace the cross in spite of the pain. As I prayed I was reminded of the words spoken by Jackie Pullinger – “The Gospel is always death for the one who brings it, and life for the one who receives it.”

I need this death to self. Without it I cannot experience the resurrection life of Jesus. It is a process, a mechanism, whereby my sinful flesh is consumed and the life of Christ is revealed within me all at once. But it is painful. It is not easy. It is not comfortable. There is a cost and it is not cheap.

Jesus compared the Kingdom of God to a man who found a great treasure in a field. When he found it he covered it up again and ran with joy to sell all that he had in order to buy that field and gain that matchless treasure.

I think I am needing to be reminded of how much greater His Kingdom is worth compared to whatever He might ask me to give up, or to let go of, or to abandon, in order to gain more of Him and His Kingdom. Right now I am mainly concerned with the pain and the discomfort. This is what is real. This is what is right in front of me at this very moment. The experience of death to self.

There is no glory in this. If I step forward, if I embrace this cross, there will be no cheering crowds to spur me onward. If I take up this cross, there will be no immediate reward for my obedience. There is no anesthetic to dull the pain. It is nothing but nails, and blood and dying flesh. This is what it will cost me – everything.

But, what else can I do? Really, how could I possibly turn back now? As hard as it seems, the act of laying down and giving up is more repulsive to me than the prospect of enduring the inevitable humiliation and shame. This life is but a vapor. I know it. My Lord Jesus is waiting for me to choose Him over my own temporary comfort. I need that cross. I need to find it again, and to lift its weight on my shoulders, and to carry it the rest of the way.

Here’s what I know; writing about it is not the same as doing it. Blogging the process isn’t actually participating in the daily process of death to self. I either embrace the cross and endure the pain, or not. Writing about it doesn’t accomplish anything.

So, today, I take up my cross. I hold it close. I await the painful piercing of those nails upon my flesh. I anticipate the death of Keith Giles, the fake, the pretender, the expert, the semi-internet-famous-blogger, author and radio host. He will die. He must die so that Christ may live in me and transform me from within.

As Keith expires, Jesus will breathe. As Keith fades away, Jesus will rise up. As Keith decreases, Jesus will gloriously increase.

“I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead.” (Philippians 3:10-11)

-kg 

Confessions of a Selfish Mind

There are nights when I look into the bathroom mirror, really look, deep into my own eyes, confessing truths to myself that never come through my lips or over my tongue.

I am weak. I am powerless. I am completely unable to love as I know I am called to love. My selfishness consumes me. My pride, like gravity, pulls me to the ground and holds my feet to the cold, hard earth. I am unable to fly.

Deeper still, I admit my inconsistencies. I desire to be great in the eyes of men, and yet I know that true greatness is found at the feet of men, washing in humility.

I have a spiritual gift to teach others, but I fear the celebrity associated with the title of "teacher" and so I sit silently. I bite my tongue.

In my pride I secretly hope that one day I might be recognized for my expertise asked to speak at large conferences and join the spiritual giants on the big stage, and yet at the same time I loathe the empty hype of events and the vanity of religious experts.

I am torn. But not yet in two.

So, now, God has asked me to allow His Holy Spirit to probe into my dark, sinful heart. The Great Physician has me on the table, the gleaming scalpel in his hand, and He is asking me to lay back and relax and trust Him as the surgery begins.

Oh how I need this circumcision of the heart. Oh, how I need to be made more like Him.

To do only what I see the Father doing is to love others, because that is what He is doing every moment of every day. Yet, I realize that I am powerless to love. Love is not my native tongue. Selfishness chokes on my best intentions. Only Jesus can make me like Himself. There is no good in me. None.

So, I lay back. I close my eyes. I whisper a prayer that God's hand would move swiftly and cut deeply and remove the rotten, infectious flesh from my heart.

I have tried to make these cuts myself, but my hands are not steady enough. My sympathy for my own comfort restrains my ability to fully complete the surgery. So, I nip here and tuck there. I choose a careful section of flesh and slice around the sensitive nerves where pride and selfishness thrive. I hold up the small tumor and wave it like a trophy. Look at what I have learned to live without. Look how I am willing to sacrifice.

But I know it is a lie. Better still, God knows it too. And when I look into those eyes in the silent mirror I cannot pretend any longer.

Only God can make these necessary incisions. Only the One who loves me more than He loves His own life can find the place where I hide my selfish dreams and drive home the knife and cut away the infected flesh and remove every last ounce of pride from my heart.

Only God can heal the wounds, sew me together, wipe my tears away and kiss me where it hurts.

Let it begin.
-kg

"Only love, only love can leave such a mark
But only love, only love can heal such a scar" - U2, "Magnificent"

"...circumcision is circumcision of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the written code." - Romans 2:29

**
Originally posted here on April 2009

ABUSE, ADDICTION, SHAME AND REDEMPTION

When I was in first grade my family moved from Tennessee to Texas. By that time I had been sexually molested by 3 different people.

Our move to Texas was God's grace to us. It served to heal my parent's marriage. It helped me to escape the sexual predators in my life, and it brought my family to a saving faith in Christ.

I still remember standing in the kitchen as a second grader and gripping the butcher knife in my hands with the point against my belly button, trying to find the courage to stab myself to death. I didn't know why I felt so bad, but I knew I wanted it to stop.

My mom walked in on me, standing in the kitchen with tears streaming down my face, holding the knife against my stomach. I couldn't talk to her about what had happened to me. I couldn't find the words. I felt so much shame. So much confusion about my feelings. How could I admit all that I had done? I didn't even know the words for what had happened to me.

Somehow, after hours of tears and unbearable confession, I managed to explain what had happened to me. Most of it, anyway. It would be years before I could put all the memories together into something my adult mind could process. I still have flashbacks today of things that I cannot put into words, and I won't try to do so here.

Even in the midst of all this pain, I can remember laying on the bed at a babysitters house during naptime and talking to God. I remember telling him that I would be a preacher if he would help my mom and dad get back together. I don't even know why I said that, really, because I had only visited a church once before at that time and I hadn't even sat through the entire service.

Still, God heard that prayer. He took my family out of Tennessee and carried us far away to Eagle Pass, Texas where we found ourselves in the front row of the Lighthouse Freewill Baptist Church.

I remember Bill Sikes, a white-haired man from Virginia who sang "The King is Coming" almost every Sunday morning with a strong baritone voice. I remember Sandra Peterson, the cute blond girl whose father was the town's only vetrinarian. I remember singing "Victory in Jesus" at the top of my lungs with my new friends Shane Briggs and Carl Rutledge on either side of me. But mostly, I remember Vance Link, a tall, dark-haired preacher from North Carolina, talking about how Jesus loved me and died for me. How He could wash away my sins and make me clean inside. I remember my heart racing when he made the invitation to come up front and receive Jesus as Lord and Savior. I wanted to take those steps, but my feet were frozen to the floor. The piano played the final verse of "Just As I Am" and it was over. I had missed it.

After the closing prayer I remember taking my Dad's big hand in mine and asking him if he would please tell the pastor that I had wanted to go up and ask Jesus into my heart but that I couldn't make my feet move.

My dad looked at me and said, "No, son. I won't do that."

I was stunned, but he wasn't finished speaking. He said, "But I'll go with you and you can tell him yourself."

So, my dad held onto my hand and we walked those ten steps to the front of the church where I did my best to explain to Pastor Link that I wanted to ask Jesus into my heart. He prayed with me through my tears and then something really amazing happened. My mom and my dad both asked if they could be baptized along with me. So, together, all three of us were baptized on the same day into the family of God.

Years later, I found that the ideas and experiences I had been exposed to at such an early age made it nearly impossible for me to escape an eventual addiction to pornography that plagued me throughout high school and into my early college years.

I went through a cycle of addiction for several years. It was always the same. I would start by immersing myself in pornograhic magazines, videos or books. Eventually I would become disgusted with myself and beg for the Lord to forgive me and take away my desire for those things. Then I'd enjoy a season where I could resist the temptation, but eventually it would overwhelm me and I fall right back into that cycle again.

The amazing thing is that, no matter how many times I repented and begged the Lord to take away my desire for pornography - He would do it. It was so amazing to me. He never seemed to get tired of forgiving me and removing my desire.

Over time, my ability to resist the temptation grew stronger and eventually I found freedom from this seemingly endless cycle of addiction. Not that I consider myself to be immune from the power of this addiction. I am constantly aware of the fact that it would only take one stupid mistake to send me back into that cycle again. But now I have a wife who loves me for who I am. I have two amazing boys who I hope to protect from this same addiction. I have no desire to return to that hideous slavery of lust again. Freedom is sweet and the fruit of this freedom is reward in itself.

One thing I learned during my seasons of resisting this temptation that I'll share with all of you is this verse:

"Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." - (James 4:7)

Many people misquote this verse and say, "Resist the devil and he will flee from you" but that's not what it says, and it's not true. The devil isn't afraid of me, nor am I stronger than him in my own flesh. The scripture starts by saying, "Submit yourselves, then, to God." This is the key. If we are submitted to God, then we are automatically moving away from the devil and the flesh. If we are in the arms of God then we are safe from the enemy's power and the enticement of lust. We have to start by submitting ourselves to God and then, when we resist the devil he will flee from us because he knows there's no use trying to pry us out of the hands of Almighty God.

I'm sure a lot of you reading this will wonder why I decided to share this personal, intimate testimony on my blog. I think mainly because I realized this week that God had rescued me from so much already and that it was good to remember it, and to openly confess these things to others.

Everytime I've shared this testimony in the past I have been innundated with people who share similar stories with me about their own molestation, or their own struggles with addiction to pornography. I guess I wanted to let people know that they're not alone and that God really can take away that lustful desire in the heart. I wanted to let people know that God can heal the wounds and the scars of our past and that it's not our fault if an adult takes advantage of us against our will. We are not dirty because someone treated us like dirt. We are dearly loved children of God who need to be held in His arms and made whole again.

I'm one of the lucky ones who can say that Jesus healed my heart and made all things new in me. He gave me the strength to resist temptation yesterday, and He will continue to give me the strength today, and tomorrow as well.

-kg

FULL DISCLOSURE: I SUCK

I’m going to make a few observations about myself in the interest of full disclosure.

Personally, I struggle with pride. Anyone who knows me knows this is true, so this isn't my big confession yet. That comes later.

Anyway, because of my struggle with pride, I’ve always had a hard time being the guy behind the pulpit. Not because I’m uncomfortable there, but precisely because I am much TOO comfortable in that spotlight. My love language is “Words of Affirmation” and whenever I am the focus of everyone’s attention I tend to absorb more than my fair share of ego-inducing energy. After a short time, I begin to see my sermons as performances and I tend to experience a blurring of focus. I start to believe my own hype and I over-internalize all those well-meaning comments about how great I am and what a good sermon I preached and how blessed they were and blah, blah, blah.

Let me be clear, I’m not against public speaking or teaching. It’s not a bad thing to have someone teach others about God’s Word for twenty minutes while they take notes, or better yet ask questions. God has given teachers to the Church for the building up of the Body. That's good. The problem I had with preaching in front of an audience was me. The problem was with me.

So, here I am, about four years later. I’ve started a house church in my home. I am no longer “the pastor” and I do not preach in any formal way. In fact, if anything, I’ve done my best to encourage others to teach and to share more than I do. I’ve also wrestled internally with being a member of the Body of Christ rather than as any sort of “leader” in the Body. I still think I talk too much, and others in our house church would agree. But overall it’s been a great experience for me to step down off the pulpit and allow others to teach me for a change.

Now and again I do still preach and teach, but only on rare occasions and, so far, only at other churches or gatherings outside of our house church. Again, I’m not against preaching at all and when it comes to my own issues with standing behind the pulpit I’ve mostly overcome the challenge.

So, imagine my despair when it dawned on me about a week ago that nothing has really changed at all. In fact, I still continue to preach from a pulpit and accept adoring praise as a way to fulfill my own ego and pride every single week. It's called: This blog you're reading right now.

My blog, and my Twitter page, and my Facebook account, are all just cyber-versions of that same pulpit I thought I had escaped. Each comment and Tweet sent my way in appreciation continues to feed my desire to be stroked. Every re-Tweet sent is yet another drop on my endlessly expanding ego sponge. Every shared link to my blog is just another brick in the ever-growing temple to my own vanity.

And there you have it. I suck.

Seriously, this realization nearly killed me. I mean, in my spirit, in my heart, it physically hurt me to the core. For the last seven days I have been in spiritual and psychological pain. One friend of mine described it as the Dark Night of the Soul and I would have to agree. It was very dark. My soul was in deep distress. I hated myself for being so foolish and selfish. And trust me, there's no greater suffering than for someone who loves himself to discover he cannot stand being in his own skin.

So, I contemplated ending my blog, killing my Twitter account and shutting down my Facebook page. Vanity, vanity, all is vanity. What was the point anymore? I was so disgusted with myself for being so full of pride. The only thing that kept me sane during this time was my wife and her prayers for me. A few of you also prayed for me and I am grateful for those prayers, but sadly they did little to lessen the pain. When I closed my eyes at night and laid my head on the pillow one thing remained the same: I was still a scumbag. My prideful heart was still pumping strong. All I wanted to do was crawl under a rock somewhere and die.

Today I think I felt the clouds parting slightly. Maybe it’s not all for nothing. Maybe, in spite of my pride, God can still use my teaching ability. Much like my ordeal with preaching from the pulpit, I was able to manage my own response to those words of affirmation and continue to teach, however sporadically, without allowing the praise to go to my head. Perhaps, with my blog, I can do the same thing? Maybe I can continue to write articles and encourage people here without taking myself too seriously? Maybe, now that I am aware of my weakness, I can learn to manage this part of my pride as well? Maybe.

So, for now, I will continue to write articles here and to Tweet now and again, and to post things over on Facebook once in a while. But, today I am more aware of my own wicked heart and my own deceitful nature. My hope is that I can edify and encourage you – my brothers and sisters in Christ – without using this as a platform to spread my own meager fame.

Again, the problem here is not with blogging, or the internet. The problem is with me. I am the problem. The tool is just a tool, but I need to learn to use the tool for the common good, and not for my own selfish purpose.

Please forgive me for being a hypocrite. I hope to improve my serve in this area, as God gives me Grace.

Peace to you,
Keith