Happy RESET!

I have gotten some great feedback on my last post and was asked by some to help in thinking through whether you know to bust down the wall or run your hand along the wall. As I look to a fresh start and wish you all the best in your fresh start, I found these four things helpful in allocating in the reset.

For everything there is a season, and la time for every matter under heaven–Eccl. 3.1

The wisest of all kings tells us that life has built within it seasons of change. I try to maintain stability and constancy, but I am pushing against the wind. . .oftentimes against the Spirit of God (Jn 3.8) oftentimes becoming like those carried away by the wind (Hab 1.11). Embracing the sovereignty of God assumes he has the right to change life–yes, even my life!–as he sees fit.

As I said before, God has shown me the reset button and I have pressed it.

I haven’t done it mindlessly or frivolously. In fact, I balked for a couple months when I should have pressed it–thinking I could remedy the situation that was like desalting the sea that I was swimming in.

So what were some ways that justified a reset–with family in tow? Well, I had to first set the priorities of my life. Once these foci were in place, I could then decide what was out of range. This takes time and prayer and a lot of asking.


Maybe you’re not the praying kind of person. Yeah, I know, you’re spiritual, you read your Bible. But I venture to say it’s been a while since you’ve really prayed. Beyond the shopping list of what you want from God, prayer is a dialogue. For the Christian, this is a no-brainer. But I found that I too easily move forward without first being silent and listening. Surely prayer is us petitioning and seeking God with our words. Yet, prayer is intended to mold us and remind us and show us.

It is not a letter, but an extended period of conversation at coffee. It’s not just confession, but it is reception. It is not information download, but dynamic framework reconfiguration. When was the last time you were silent before God?


You would think after 35 years I know myself well enough to rattle off my priorities on command. I found that I have spent 35 years with my ear to the ground trying to see where my priorities ought to be by the swirling voices around me. It took months of listening and frustration and repentance and pleading to understand what my priorities ought to be–ever so simple, but borne along from a deeper conviction.

It’s one thing to say God is good. It’s quite another to taste his goodness. It’s one thing to say God is all-satisfying. It’s another to live in such a way that I believe it and others see it. Why do you hurry and clamor for answers when they are given through tears and pain?


This is the more humbling but has been even more revelatory for me. We all have blind spots and sometimes our dreams can give us tunnel vision or (on the other hand) make it so we can’t focus on who God has made us to be. I remember first asking God: What have you made me most passionate about? And I waited–with the Bible in my lap. After getting a couple of things, I then asked my wife–who offered me a little clarity on what I had discerned those passions to be. I then took that and started asking friends who knew me well over the past few years, who further honed and confirmed what those things were. You must open your life up and your dreams. Why do you continue to go at it alone when you have been surrounded by a myriad of counselors?


One of the things I found from asking is that there are so many opinions (as many as there are people!) that you can fill like your head is floating. It helps to write out people’s thoughts and look for threads of similarity. Further, you will find that you and the world around you have garnered conventional wisdom in decision-making. Conventional wisdom can be helpful, but it is. . . conventional. It’s a consensus on how people should live–often devoid of any supernatural variables. If God is in control, he is in control of people’s hearts and advice. He’s in control of your heart and understanding. He’s in control of the difficult circumstances you are in. He is in control of setting your feet in wide places.

Given this fact, you must be willing to throw some conventional wisdom aside. After all, conventions do much to gather but little to apply to the day after they are over. Conventional wisdom  attempts to make you safe (or feel safer than you ever really are).

Get a job that is consistent. You don’t have to like the job. Own a house by the age of 35. Who said? The convention. Oftentimes, this helpful wisdom does not make you want to do great things. It wants you to keep the status quo because danger and pain and fear are undesirable.

I fear resets are undesirable because we have the short view. When my child lets me know about a splinter that’s been in her hand for two days (not telling me because she was afraid of the pain of taking it out), I find that infection has already set in. I have to open the skin. . .and, well, you know.

We must not run away from pain, but utilize it and learn from it in the moment and following. Why is this painful? Is it legitimate pain? What is this pain teaching me for my future decisions?

Join the Conversation:

What things have you found helpful in your reset? What things make you scared to death?

Previous ArticleNext Article

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

What Is Sunday Worship?

I’m gonna keep this simple, but hopefully not simplistic. As you consider your corporate gathering of believers (typically on the first day of the week), there are three ways to think about it. You can think of it as an event, a participation, or a transformation.

The Event Model can take on two modes: emotionally-driven or cognitively-driven. The emotionally-driven mindset, of course, could baldly mean that you show up to hear some great music and hear a message. You go to watch and experience something. The cognitively-driven mindset could mean that you highlight the sermon so much that it becomes the point of your showing up. You hear this a lot in evangelical churches that the sermon is the most important aspect of the worship experience. The problem with such thinking, though, betrays an onlooker mentality. That is, I go to church to observe and consider and think and have my thinking changed.

In this model, there is an I-Thou expectation of the worship service. I go to that. I consider that. I am separate from and participate in that. In other words, this kind of approach to the corporate gathering is apart from who I am. I go to there. I leave from there. Sure, we talk about taking the message home with us…but come on! You and I both know we forget what was said within 10 minutes of leaving the building. When we are confronted with traffic on the way to the buffet. And then, we get bored. Bored with our lives. Bored with our faith. We find greater joy in our team winning the game than in our eternal salvation won at the cost of the Son of God.

The Participation Model is a little bit better than the event model. This puts the onus on the believer to come to the service seeking to be engaged in other people at church. For all the talk about this being a need in churches, and people nodding their heads in agreement…this does not happen in reality. People cognitively ascend to this truth, but they don’t fully grasp this truth.

If they do grasp a hold of this participation model, it often devolves into judgmentalism (others aren’t as serious about their faith as you are) or complacency (I asked someone how their walk with God is going and they gave me the cold shoulder). So what’s the problem with this model? Write simply it remains in the realm of I-Thou. That is, I bring something to you. I come to serve you. I am apart from and wholly different from you. At its root, it is simply another (albeit more spiritual rendition) of the event model. 

The third, and I believe more biblical model (of course!), is the Tranformational Model. This way of approaching the Sunday morning gathering sheds itself of the event. It doesn’t come in judgment of the service–I didn’t like that song. I liked the sermon. I really engaged with God this morning. Wow, what a wonderful time. Instead, it views Sunday morning as another step in my being conformed into the image of Jesus. It does see it as an event you come to. It is something we participate in. But preeminently it embraces the fact that over time we are being changed by the service itself. 

What does this look like? Well, it understands that every time we attend an event or participate in a service, we are slowly changing. You are much more different from the fifth football game you attended, than the first. You understand the language, the traditions, the cheers. 

So it is with a church service…and this is where it gets a bit thorny. With the typical evangelical liturgy (and it is a liturgy) of two fast songs, two slow songs, a sermon, and dismissal, we are slowly becoming consumers. Or better put, our already-ingrained consumer mentality is reinforced as we observe (and maybe participate). We watch the stage. We critique the songs–or what the song leader was wearing. We sit down and hear someone wax eloquently–or not. 

I fear that much of the problems we see in modern evangelicalism stem from us offering goods and services to people and not inviting them into be transformed. This fact is betrayed in much of the assumptions underlying decisions made on how the liturgy ought to roll. For example, since we need to be engaging and winsome in our communication of the Gospel, we need to play this popular radio song and do a Jesus juke to talk about how real love is only found in Jesus. Of course I’m not saying messages and songs ought to be fuddy-duddy and boring! Stop putting baby in the corner. 

What I am saying is that churches ought to be very clear in what they are shaping their people into becoming. We ought to understand that we are in the business of transformation–from one degree of glory to another. Not filling seats. Not being entertaining and relevant at the cost of depth. 

This is why at Christ the Redeemer, we have been intentional in our liturgy. We believe that the primary purpose of the Sunday morning gathering is the transformation of people. We have an explicit order to our service that follows the biblical storyline of Creation>Fall>Redemption>Consummation. Over time, people’s being is changed. It unwittingly becomes easier to say “I’m sorry, please forgive me” because you are trained to confess your sin every week. You more readily accept forgiveness because you are trained to hear God’s Word of Forgiveness to you after confessing. You more readily come to fellowship with God in spite of and because of your sin because you are trained that at the Lord’s Table you find satisfaction and rest for your souls.

Yes, Sunday morning is an event. But not merely so. It is something we participate in. But not merely so. It is preeminently another step in our being transformed into the likeness of Jesus. The primary goal of Sunday morning is our transformation through intentional liturgies.

Redeeming the Serpent



Israel found itself in the wilderness complaining against God for his ways of redeeming them. For the mundane activities he had them take part in (i.e., walking around in circles).

Side note: If you and I were led in the wilderness for 40 years we would be murmuring as well. We get in a tizzy when we have to do anything mundane for more than an hour typically.

So Israel complains and God sends serpents to bite them in judgment (see Numbers 21 for the full account). This act of judgment reminds us of the serpent in the Garden who is ever present with us. He tempts us to murmur and blame others rather than confessing and growing and trusting. These serpents become a vivid reminder of what each of our little speakings of our minds are really saying. That is, when we speak out against a circumstance or a person, we are setting ourselves up as the arbiter of right and wrong. Of truth. We are the ones to whom others ought to ask for permission.

But the act of healing did not come by taking a potion or jumping in a river or screaming out loud, “I’m sorry” followed by self-flagellation. The act of redemption came in the simple form of looking. Looking. Not reaching out. Not even crying out. Merely looking away from the self and to Another. There is no strength required. A mere acknowledgment of something outside of ourselves that needs to redeem.

What is fascinating further about this act of redemption is the object to which Israel was to look. They were to look to…a serpent. The Act of Rebellion against their Maker that started in the Garden is turned on its head. The Serpent is powerless to hold sway the delights of rebellion. He becomes the tool in God’s hands of redemption.

God doesn’t just say, “Stay away from serpents.” He doesn’t rid the earth of what would be deemed evil. Surely, the Adversary is not redeemer. That is not what we see in the text! Rather, we see that those things connected with and that can easily be lumped in with the hopeless, in this case a serpent, God redeems this seemingly hopeless object. He doesn’t merely get rid of the evil, he redeems the evil.

This is scandalous and you might find yourself saying, “Matt, you go too far!”

Do I? I venture to say that you have not entirely grasped who you are. You were an object of wrath. You were children of the Adversary. You delighted in your own desires and your universe orbited around your wants. God, being rich in mercy, took you out of that darkness. He didn’t merely remove you from the filth. He transferred you into the kingdom of his Beloved Son. The One he loved from before the foundation of the world. He not only transferred you into that kingdom. He has given you all the privileges of that kingdom. He has made you a son and daughter!

God is not in the business of just getting rid of his adversaries, but to those who will merely look to the Son who was also lifted up, he will give you the inheritance of his Beloved Son. No more to be destroyed. No more to be reviled and written off as hopeless. He gives you all that he has and all that he is.

How the Gospel Integrates

This past Sunday I preached from John 3.14-21. In an effort to help us hear with fresh ears, I offered my own translation from the Greek. Of note in the translation, instead of “perish” as is typically used for the word apollumi in the Greek, I opted for “destroy.” The lexical range for the word can also include “to undo” as in “untie.” What a strange word or concept to consider that to be destroyed is to be untied or undone. What is John (and Greek!) getting at?

As we consider the biblical storyline of Creation>Fall>Redemption>Consummation, the idea of being untied is a beautiful picture of what happened at the Fall. That is, when our first parents fell to the temptation of the Serpent they were untied, unglued as it were. They were broken down from the integrated selves God had made them as.

So many times we can understand the death we experience from the Fall as puntiliwr in nature. That is, as in that moment in the Fall death happened. What we see as the biblical storyline unfolds is that the concept of “death” is one of living under the reign of death. That is, the moment we close our eyes for the last time is merely culmination of living under the tyranny of death. Prior to that moment, we are being undone, untied, thread by precious thread.

I believe this coheres with our own experience. Consider the moment by moment decisions you and I make. Each one of those decisions could potentially be one more thread pulled out of our already threadbare sweater. Sin entices. We get hooked. Sin unravels us. After a life of this, we become naked and unashamed–where there should have been a covering and shame for the rebellion we relish. At the end of such a life, we come to the final thread being snapped.

The Gospel, however, is about the work of integrating us. Of bringing us into wholeness. Whereas we continue to live under the reign of death, we are merely tenants and not inheritors of such death. We have been given the life of Christ and are being knit back together into the integrated self that God had intended from the beginning. And so, the Gospel saved us, saves us, and will save us from the frayed existence of those who do not believe on the Son. Those who refuse to come to the Tailor to receive their garments of praise, will continue to wear the ashes. Those who do not submit to the rectifying work of the Author and Finisher of our lives, will find that they are undone. They are ultimately destroyed.

In this way, the Gospel of Jesus a moment of transference into the Kingdom of God’s beloved Son. And it then acts as the agent of reifying the imago Dei that was unraveled. What a beautiful picture of how God works in our lives moment by moment! When confronted with a juicy morsel of sin, by the power of the Spirit to say “No” to ungodliness and our own rule, another thread is tighter in our fabric. Each moment when the promises of slavery seem enticing, instead of being undone and destroyed, we are made into wholly, integrated image bearers.