There is a mystery to belonging.

I’m usually reminded of this early on Sunday mornings. I bought one of those clock alarms with a CD player so you can wake up to the music of your choice rather than some annoying radio station or a loud buzzer.

We usually have a mix of tunes that begin our morning with a heart of worship, giving glory to God, which certainly helps our attitude as we start the day. The first one that comes on is an all-time favorite, Easter Song by Keith Green, celebrating the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

My wife, Zolla, and I always enjoy hearing this song as we awaken, but on Sunday mornings, it means a bit more. It begins a time together that is just our own, with no job to worry about, no dogs or cats to take care of, no television, no ESPN or SportsCenter, no friends, no family, no phone calls, no Facebook or internet–just my wife and I waking up together, talking and enjoying each other without distraction.

There’s a visceral sense of peace and belonging between us that no one else knows in the exact same way as we do during that time. And most often, it doesn’t matter if we had a big argument the night before. It doesn’t matter if I was an insensitive jerk or if she was critical or anxious.

When we hear Keith’s piano bursting through the web of our fitful dreams, we remember a mercy that comes renewed with the morning, and we remember that in our own little world when it’s just the two of us alone together, we get to experience the truest sense of unconditional acceptance and intimacy. It’s probably the time, more than any other, when I feel the most “married.”

But then, a few songs later, we hear the nuns of the Salzburg Abbey from the musical, The Sound of Music, invoking a glorious welcome to the industry and tasks of the day, and this is our reminder that it’s time for us to get out of bed if we’re going to make it to church on time. And so, we both groan for having to get up, but also for the loss of those fleeting moments.

Sure, we could set the alarm to go off earlier, which we have. Sure, I in particular could create more moments of quiet and intimacy, which I do and am working to get better at doing more. But for now, this has simply been our pattern, and because it’s this temporary moment of grace, it feels all the more precious to both of us.

My wife and I have been working with married couples for a number of years, and next week, I’ll be starting a new class on marriage at our local church. It was just an arbitrary matter of scheduling, but the class will begin the day after Easter, and so during this Holy Week I’m preparing for the class and have marriage on my mind as much as I have the suffering and resurrection of Christ.

But I wonder whether that’s really a coincidence. Marriage is perhaps my best daily example of the suffering and resurrection that Jesus experienced for our sakes. Paul said of him:

“I want to know Christ—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

We sometimes make jokes about the archaic phrasing in the Bible where Adam “knowing” his wife is simply a polite euphemism for sexual relations. And while it is perhaps just that, I think it also means a great deal more. Biblical knowing certainly goes beyond the cognitive knowledge of someone, and this is represented by the physical intimacy of marital sex, where the two become one in a mysterious one-flesh relationship.

But, anyone knows that there’s a lot more to a happy marriage than just sex. There’s intimacy in the realm of the intellect, of the emotions, and ultimately, in the realm of the spiritual. And, that, like marriage, is related to the way we can know Christ–a knowing, a communion, that can last for eternity.

Knowing Christ and this eternal sense of belonging, however, can only be reached through a crucifixion. In other words, the power of his Easter resurrection must be preceded by a participation in his suffering and death.

And so it is with marriage. When you get married, you can’t hide your selfishness any longer. It shows up in spades after you say your vows. And so the only way to truly have a lifelong marriage of happiness and true belonging, to truly know that other person physically, emotionally, spiritually and become one-flesh, you must die to that selfish desire to always go your own way.

My wife and I have felt this suffering, this not wanting to let go of our way of doing things, many times in our marriage. It hurts to let go of what I want. It feels like a death. I’ve spent ample time in mourning for the loss of my own way. But, no matter how justified I’ve felt in standing up for the conviction that I’m right, if it means that she and I end up not speaking to each other and living separately under the same roof, then all I ultimately feel in being right is dead right. Without her, I have no life that’s worth living. And so to know this type of resurrection life, I have to give myself up:

“Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her…’For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.’ This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church.” Ephesians 5:25,31-32

We all want to be accepted. We all want to belong. But most often, there is a price that must be paid for that acceptance. Christ paid that price 2,000 years ago so we as his church could know and belong to God, and through his power and guidance, my wife and I have the surreal opportunity to engage in this mystery of belonging in our marriage as well. In spite of all our weaknesses, she accepts me and I accept her.

So, it’s probably no accident that some of the most precious times in my marriage are heralded by a song about new life and the Easter resurrection. Not so coincidentally, it’s early on a Sunday morning when this mutual mercy is renewed with the dawn and I’m reminded of the price that was paid for my acceptance: both the price that is paid when my wife and I make the choice to put the needs of each other’s life above our own, and the price paid when Jesus placed the needs of the world above his right to life itself.

I don’t think there is a coincidence. There is a connection between marriage and the implications of Holy Week, except perhaps in their duration. With me and my wife, the celebration of our mutual acceptance so often occurs between Keith and the nuns, and it will last so long as we both shall live. With Christ and the church, the marriage celebration will never end.

(If you live near Statesville, North Carolina and would like to attend my marriage class, it begins next Monday, April 25th. Feel free to contact me or click HERE for more info.)

The precious possession of a man is diligence. — Proverbs 12:27

Do you like what you do? According to recent surveys, most Americans don’t. Most of us are unhappy and wishing we were somewhere else. Some of us are lazy. Others are unchallenged. Some can’t get along with our co-workers. Others have a mean boss or feel under-appreciated for all they do.

In truth, understanding our relationship to work is a fundamental life-question, and if we’re not happy with what we do, this might be a red-flag for some self-examination. Why? Because work, or what we do, encapsulates much more than what we do for a paycheck and therefore speaks more about who we are as human beings than just who we are as employees.

Sure, most of us go to work to earn a living. But, It’s also work to get out of bed, it’s work to exercise, to eat right and keep ourselves fit. It’s work to keep a house clean, to care for infants and teenagers, to love our husband or wife, it’s work to come up with fresh ideas, to keep up with our studies, to go to church, to pray, to volunteer in our community, and so on.

Understanding our relationship to work runs as deep as understanding our relationship to God, to our spouse, our children, or others who matter to us. Because, just like marriage, childbirth, etc., work is seated deep within our psyche and our history. The concept of work is sewn within the fabric of life’s purpose and meaning.

In the Bible, the first thing we read about God doing is work. When he speaks, he does so with a view towards productivity. Through his creative energy, he produces for us light, the earth, the sea, plants, animals, humans–all with a similar reproductive or utilitarian end. They’re meant to work for something. The first commission he gives to man is to work, to cultivate and maintain Eden, his home. Everything has its purpose, and our purpose is typically exercised through work.

The Bible has a lot to say about our relationship to work:

Are you one of those who feels unappreciated at your job (outside or inside the home), like no one understands your value or properly rewards you for what you do? There are lots of passages where God defends equal work for equal pay. And, God does care about justice in the workplace. But, he also cares about your attitude and your sense of duty. God says that it’s better to be a nobody with a job than to be unemployed with no one around to challenge your superiority (1). And, he says that, ultimately, he’s the one you should be working for; he’s the one you should seek your rewards and recognition from (2).

Work produces. Idleness, believe it or not, destroys (3). Idleness is rampant in our culture of electronic self-worship and passivity. When we have nothing to do for an extended period, our love turns inward and our judgment turns outward (4). When we aren’t producing anything, we’re more apt to tear down and, worse-case scenario, to even lose the life and gifts God meant for us to put to good use in the first place (5).

You’ve heard all the stories of people who win the lottery only to end up in bankruptcy, broken relationships, and even death? God says that “the precious possession of a man is his diligence” (6). There needs to be an appreciation between what we have and how much work was done to produce it. Otherwise, we disintegrate into selfishness, and what we do have has no meaning; we incessantly crave and desire and are left with nothing (7).

Now some of you Bible scholars are shouting at your screen, trying to remind me that God gives us our most precious possession, our eternal relationship with Him, through his grace and not our own work. This is indeed true. But, God’s grace, while given freely, is the result of the finished work of his son, and we’ll have no true job satisfaction in life without–in appreciation of the cost that was paid for this free gift–following the same work-ethic Jesus did while on earth.

Essentially, when we accept the rewards of Christ’s work, we do so by signing a new job application. God becomes our new boss. He has already paid us the highest of salaries, and promises to energize us to do so many things we could never do on our own (8). But, ultimately, he expects us, through his power and guidance, to be productive–to help him reproduce in others what he has produced in us.

If you’re feeling disgruntled with your job, with the effort you produce, with your place in life, ask yourself this question: What are you working for? Is it to produce a living, a regular paycheck, food on the table, shoes for the kids? This is right to do. But, you shouldn’t work just to produce a living, but to produce a life–not just for yourself or your own sense of purpose, but for the lives of those around you. That’s really what you were created for.

God says that by working hard, we should remember those in need, whether, physical, or spiritual (9). He says that a person should “labor, performing with his own hands what is good, so that he will have something to share with one who has need” (10).

Our relationship to work, then, has everything to do with how we work on our relationships. What if we applied the following as a work ethic, both on the job, and in life itself?

“Love from the center of who you are; don’t fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle. Don’t burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant. Don’t quit in hard times; pray all the harder. Help needy Christians; be inventive in hospitality. Bless your enemies; no cursing under your breath. Laugh with your happy friends when they’re happy; share tears when they’re down. Get along with each other; don’t be stuck-up. Make friends with nobodies; don’t be the great somebody. Don’t hit back; discover beauty in everyone. If you’ve got it in you, get along with everybody” (11).

Tell me that the work described above wouldn’t produce a reward that is miles beyond your measly expectations of a fair paycheck and proper recognition in your career or vocation. It would both exhaust you and help you sleep more soundly at night. It would produce in you and others a life of purpose and meaning.

Whether you’ve noticed it or not, God’s sign has been placed in the window of your life all this time:

“Help Wanted.”

What are you ready to do for him?

(1).   Proverbs 12:9
(2).   Ephesians 6:5-8; Hebrews 6:10-12
(3).   Proverbs 18:9
(4).   I Timothy 5:13-18; Proverbs 26:16
(5).   Luke 19:20-26
(6).   Proverbs 12:27
(7).   Proverbs 13:4; 21:25-26
(8).   Philippians 2:12-13
(9).   Acts 20:35
(10). Ephesians 4:28
(11). Romans 12:9-18

Here’s another life lesson I had as a kid that has left a significant mark on who I am today. In my early teens and at various other periods growing up, I was the victim of a lot of “persecution” by my peers…teasing. The persecution came in a lot of forms, some physical with bullies, but I guess most of it was verbal–name-calling, etc.

Middle school is a really tough age. If I thought I’d get anywhere, I’d go door-to-door with a petition to send kids straight from grade school to high school, but I guess that won’t happen.

The teasing led to what has so far been the most stressful time in my life, and I was eventually ready to just quit school altogether and hide in my bedroom till I was eighteen. So, at one point, my parents sent me to see a counselor. The lesson that stuck with me was when the counselor was addressing my responsibility in the situation, in other words, how I reacted to the teasing.

He brings out this bath-towel and asks me to grab onto one end. He takes the other end, and starts to pull, and asks me to start pulling back. So we enter into this tug-of-war, and he tells me that on his side, he’ll play the part of my peers, and so he starts calling me names “stupid, idiot, geek,” etc. He then asks me to respond the best way I can–to defend myself: “I’m not an idiot!, I’m smart!, I’m not a geek!”

The tension rises, we’re both struggling in this battle over this bath-towel…I’m pulling with all my might, but he’s much bigger than me, and its all I can do to hold on. Then, in the midst of the struggle, he throws me for a loop with this odd request:

“Let go.”

Now, here am I, doing what he asked me to, pulling with all my might, and he wants me to let go! And boy, did that strike some fear into my heart. The emotions surged inside me: ‘I can’t let go, I’ll lose! I’ll be giving in!. If I let go, I’ll become what they say I am!’

“Let go,” he says again. Something in me just wouldn’t let me do it. It was like my very survival was at stake. Letting go meant falling backward into… who knows what? Maybe I thought it would kill me, I don’t know.

Then finally he yells it at the top of his lungs: “Let go!!!!!”

So, I let go. And, as I remember, stumbled back nearly falling onto the floor. I was startled, to say the least. I can imagine we were both breathing heavily and sweating from this struggle. Now, I don’t remember exactly what he said next. But, the gist was something like this:

“Where is the problem now? By letting go of the struggle, not defending yourself so stridently, you’ve left no fuel for their fire. But, by continuing to hold on, it is you who contributes to your own demise.”

Once I entered high school, I eventually became a pretty self-confident person, realizing my gifts, building my self-esteem. Yet, I’ve never become completely free of the effects of that teasing. One time just a few years back, I was sitting in a minivan with my 11 year-old nephew in the back seat right behind me. He starts messing with me, kicking the seat, pulling at my hair, laughing at me. I did my best to behave like the “adult uncle” in asking him nicely to stop. But, you know what came up in me? All these emotions of helplessness that I hadn’t felt in years…I felt like I was in the 7th grade all over again.

And, I still struggle with defensiveness today. I can fall into this pattern of spending way too much time concerned with how others perceive me. And oh, how I hate being accused of something I didn’t do! Just ask my wife. A lot of our marital arguments are sourced in that little insecurity.

But, I realize that while I’m most definitely responsible to respond to the needs of others in following the great commandment, “love God, and love your neighbor as yourself,” I don’t always have to defend my honor so aggressively when someone offends me or when I think I’m being labeled unjustly. The most important source for my self-esteem and worth is God–what others think of me really doesn’t mean a whole lot in the greater scheme of things.

Can you identify? When someone opposes us, we pull and pull on our towel, stressed out by the struggle, but fearing that to let go would perhaps be the end of us somehow. But, you know what? I think God wants our relationships to be proactive rather than reactive. In hindsight, perhaps if I was more mature back when I was a kid, I would have focused less on what my peers were doing to me, than what I could do for them.

Whether it’s during an argument in our marriage, whether we’re secretly hurt by a friend’s comments, or whether we’re weighed down by the burden of unrealistic expectations–when we give up our need be to always be right, when we “turn the other cheek” and “lay down our lives” for the person we’re in conflict with, we can actually become a little bit more like Jesus, who suffered way more persecution than most of us can fathom. When we let it all go, we can benefit from the unity and peace God wants for our relationships. We actually end up getting the peace we wanted all along, but just didn’t know how to find.

There’s a line I remember from the movie What Dreams May Come where it’s said, “sometimes when you lose….you win.” I guess another way to say that is, ‘Sometimes, you need to throw in the towel…but that’s how you’ll win the fight.’