The Benefit of the Doubt

I can remember swinging back and forth on the playground outside our church building as a boy. I must have been around 9 or 10 years old. I don't remember any other details of the context, but I can, to this day, remember very clearly pondering a sobering question. As far as I know, it was the first time in my short life that this thought penetrated my mind:

"What if the whole thing is just a story?"

The "whole thing" to which I was referring was the Gospel, the Bible, the story of Jesus, the very fabric of everything I had been taught about the truth up to that point.

"What if there is no god? What if there is no heaven or hell? What if it's all made up?"

I remember thinking those thoughts, and I remember feeling very small and scared.

Since that time nearly 2 decades ago, that question (along with countless others) have reverberated through my mind many times. I have always been fairly curious about life and the world around me. I have always loved encyclopedias, dictionaries, documentaries, and websites like howstuffworks.com In some cases, my inquisitiveness has not been a positive thing as it has gotten me into trouble. For the most part, however, I think my desire for knowledge has proved beneficial.

In the realm of spiritual truth and my relationship with God, I have gone through stages. Growing up in conservative Christianity, my early years were marked by a simple and genuine acceptance of all that I was taught. (Most of which, by the way, was accurate and Biblical.) During my teen years, I went through a period of several years in which I really struggled with doubt. My doubts related not so much to the validity of Christianity as they did to my own position in Christ. It took me several years to come to a confidence that I am a child of God. In my later teen and early college years, I went through a sort-of "preacher-boy" phase in which I was learning a lot about the Bible and was fairly confident that I had most of life's biggest questions figured out and could share those answers with anyone who would listen. During my Junior year of college, however, things began to change. I can't really point to one cataclysmic event in my life that modified my thinking. I just started...to wonder...and to question. As the years have progressed since my college graduation (both of them), I am finding that the more I know...the less I know. The ebb and flow of life has effectively stripped me of the arrogance of those early college years and replaced it with a sense of uncertainty and a sense of thirst...for answers. Although I still have confidence that I am a child of God, my opinions and convictions about many aspects of life, Christianity, and the Bible are in a period of fluctuation. At times, I even wrestle with that old question,

"What if the whole thing is just a story?"

In recent years, I have discovered (much to my surprise) that many of the Christians around me wrestle with the same questions and doubts that I do. I suppose this shouldn't be to my surprise, but it has been. The speakers, authors and musicians I find myself most drawn to these days are the ones who openly admit that they "don't have all the answers" and even verbalize some of their doubts and fears. For some reason, I find this vulnerability comforting. I find my patience growing rather thin with those who who constantly project an air of confidence and self-assurance. I find this attitude unsettling because I think it is disingenuous. Nobody has it all together all the time.

Now, our tendency might be to view all of this uncertainty as a bad thing. As Christians we tend to view doubt as a sign of weakness. While it is true that doubts and fears can become so monumental in our minds that they paralyze and debilitate us, I have reached the opinion that a healthy dose of doubt can actually be a good thing for a Christian. To borrow wording from the title of a book a friend of mine wrote, living with questions may not be such a bad thing after all.

Here are some reasons why...

1) Doubts and questions cause us to reevaluate our convictions. In preparation for a Sunday School class I am conducting on the Life of Christ, I have given much thought to the Pharisees recently. I am convinced that the root problem that caused these Jews (who were very much sincere in the love for God and their desire to please Him) to miss the very One for whom they were looking and waiting was simply a refusal to consider anything outside of their religious paradigm. In most cases, they refused to even examine their own beliefs and interpretations in order to determine their accuracy. They were a product of their heritage and their education, and they never looked beyond the confines of either one. Doubt that is not blindly extinguished can be beneficial because it can prompt us to be sure that our beliefs and interpretations are true to God's Word and change the ones that are not.

2) Doubts and questions cause us to be more gracious and empathetic to those around us. Those who've "got it all together" often find it difficult to understand how someone else does not. In the same way that a parent might find their child's fear of the dark or the boogieman irrational and foolish, a doubtless Christian can view a fellow believer's questions as petty, simplistic, or even indicative of major spiritual problems. On the other hand, when you have or are wrestling with doubts of your own, you are much more likely to understand the uncertainty for what it really is--the natural product of living as an individual in a vast and complex universe. In the same way, a Christian who understands doubt and lack of conviction will find it much easier to relate to and dialogue with an unbeliever who is working through their questions.

3) Doubts and questions remind us that our Christianity is faith-based. When you get right down to it, the whole thing just might be a story. We as Christians might be wrong. As much as we might want to think that we can prove our faith, we cannot. The reason for this is obvious. Our faith is just that...it's faith. Faith is the conviction about things unseen. God has chosen to reveal Himself, but He has done it in such a way that there is room for uncertainty. I am a Christian because I have chosen to believe the set of propositions about reality and eternity that Christianity provides. My faith is as strong as that on which it rests. (For the record, I feel that it rests on sure footing.) If, however, those propositions are wrong...then I am wrong as well. Those nagging doubts, those unanswered questions, those enigmatic portions of scripture--they all serve as a powerful reminder that those who come to God must do so by faith. Some might see this as a sign of weakness and unreliability. I see it as evidence that our relationship with the Father is not a safe, calculated, and confined ritual, but a grand adventure that scares us, comforts us, and fascinates all at once.

So...if you find yourself staring out at the night sky and asking some of those big questions. If you look in the mirror and your uncertainty is staring starkly back at you. Do yourself a favor. Give yourself the benefit of the doubt.

IFB...R.I.P.

So it all comes down to just three letters--three letters and all that they represent.

It's amazing how drastically a three-letter label can impact your view of a person or organization. For instance, reading the words "Andrew D. Doan" may bring certain thoughts to your mind (hopefully they are positive thoughts). If, however, we attach the three-letter label "CIA" to the name "Andrew D. Doan" this creates a completely different perception in your mind about the person behind the label--which just so happens to be me. The point is--labels matter. They create an understanding in the minds of those who hear or see them. The understanding they create may or may not be accurate, but labels do their work nonetheless.

That's why I am writing this post that, essentially, can be boiled down to three letters--a three letter label:

I...F...B...

What understanding is created in your mind when you read these three letters in conjunction with one another? Of course, there are many different words these letters could represent in the acronym, but in this instance I am using them as follows:

Independent

Fundamental

Baptist

I grew up in IFB churches and considered myself to be an "IFBer" for most of my life. The vast majority of my experiences in this religious movement were positive in nature. I am thankful for my religious heritage as it was through IFB churches and related ministries that I was given the truth of the Gospel. (No less important is the fact that I met my wife at an IFB college.) I consider myself to be fairly well-versed in the culture and inner-workings of a typical IFB church. Many of my friends and former college-mates are either pastors of or working in an IFB ministry. Let it suffice to say that the Independent Fundamental Baptist movement has played an integral role in the first 30 years of my life.

Over the last several years, a number of events and personalities have wormed their way into the media (and, consequently, the attention of the masses) that have cast a pall over the IFB label. These events range from Koran-burnings in Florida to funeral protests in Kansas. Most recently, the IFB label has come under scrutiny through an ABC News investigation and report about an IFB church in Concord, NH. While not all of these examples come from IFB churches, they seem to have affected the popular perception of churches in general and independent churches in specific. The increasing hostility and suspicion that many Americans hold toward IFB churches and similar organizations have left moderate "IFBers" all wondering the same thing:

"How do I disassociate myself with all of the negativity about IFB while maintaining my religious identity before the world?"

In other words, many moderate (often young) Fundamentalists are trying to figure out how they can salvage the IFB label and restore it to a position of respect. This post is my opinion on and answer to that question. Are you ready? Here it is...

Don't.

That's it. Just don't. Don't even try. I am not a certified medical examiner, but I am gonna step out on a limb and officially declare the IFB label to be deceased. Well, at least it should be deceased. We can hold a memorial service and have a few nice eulogies about it, but the reality is that we should retire its number and a hang a commemorative jersey from the rafters. Yes, I know I am mixing my metaphors, but the point I am trying to make is that I believe the time is approaching (it may have already come and gone) when we should cut the IFB label loose...for good.

The reason for this is simple. It's just not worth it. There is too much other important work to be done for Christ's kingdom. There is no sense in stubbornly holding on to a label that has become too much of a loose cannon to be redeemed. Ask any major corporation that has had to do PR resuscitation for a particular brand. Ask the Catholic Church. Changing the popular perception of a label once it has been soiled in the public eye is a very costly and time-consuming process. Independent Fundamentalism does not have the resources to accomplish such a feat. The fact is--it doesn't need to. "IFBers" can still believe what they believe, preach what they preach, and do what they do without having to be know as an "IFBer". Personally, I think there is much about what they believe, preach, and do that needs to be refined, but that is not the focus of this article.

I am arguing here for more than just keeping the IFB label quiet. As in, keep it but don't make a big deal about it. I don't think that is good enough. The fact is, carrying that label before the public can actually harm the cause of Christ. I am of the opinion that IFB ministry leaders should take active measures to disassociate themselves with IFB. As in, change the name of your church. Withdraw your membership from IFB organizations. Do all that you can before the public to NOT be know by this increasingly-toxic label.

In reality, this should come quite easily to a movement that has, from its inception, been characterized by separation. Fundamentalists have always been more than willing to separate from any person, organization, or label that has been deemed unworthy of the cause. (The near-paranoia about Billy Graham and "New Evangelicalism" is a case in point as is the attitude about Rick Warren or Willow Creek.) What is stopping the current generation of Fundamentalists from separating from the IFB label? I really don't know. Maybe they are ignorant (either willingly or unwillingly) of all the baggage the label brings with it. Maybe they feel that to drop the label is a form of compromise (which is a cardinal sin in IFB). Maybe they just want to pay homage to the great Fundamentalists of the past. Whatever the reason, I think IFB ministry leaders need to give serious thought to where this label will take them in the next 10 to 15 years.

Here's an illustration of what I am trying to say. Think about the word "gay" for a minute. With what do most (if not all) Americans associate this word? You are probably familiar with the fact that this word used to refer to a feeling of happiness and bliss or a carefree attitude. Over time, however, the popular perception of this word has changed. How foolish would it be for someone to claim the word "gay" as a label to describe themselves and insist that it means "happy or carefree" instead of "homosexual"? The individual might mean it in the older sense, but that is NOT how people will perceive them when they hear the term. Words and phrases evolve in their meanings and connotations over time. To refuse to recognize such changes is just silly. There comes a time when a certain label's connotation has evolved to such a point that you just have to separate from it.

Personally, I have already reached this point of separation. I have come to terms in my relationship with IFB. I have said my goodbyes. I am not a Fundamentalist nor do I care to be known as one. Do I believe the fundamentals? Yes. Am I independent? I suppose so. Am I a Baptist? For the time being. Do I want to put those three names together and smack the IFB label on my forehead? Not on your life.

The question, of course, will be raised by some, "What label would you have us use instead?" This is not easily answered. Truthfully, I don't know. Every label is going to carry some baggage with it. No label will perfectly portray to a hostile world exactly who and what you are. That is why I used to jokingly tell my fellow seminary students that I was going to start a church and just call it "Church." Unfortunately, even that label has its problems.

No, there is no ideal alternative to IFB. Maybe you can think of one. In the meantime, however, I stand by my assertion that the Independent Fundamental Baptist name (particularly the Fundamental part) should be laid to rest and given a decent burial. Stubborn refusal to do so may just be another example of the Fundamentalist penchant for defending mountains that aren't worth dying on. We've all got bigger fish to fry.

In the meantime,

Rest In Peace, IFB.

Gotta Give?

I have been thinking on and off over the last several months about Christian giving. For some reason, the subject has come up on several different occasions recently.

It started a few months back when I was covering II Corinthians with my 11th and 12th Grade Bible class. Using chapter 9, verse 7 as my basis, I made the statement to the group of 24 teenagers that I do not believe that tithing (in its truest sense of giving 10%) is required of New Testament believers. I told them that, as far as I could tell, the primary requirement for NT giving is a willing heart. This was a novel idea to many of them and several were quite skeptical of this strange, new doctrine. One student in particular talked with me personally on several occasions with questions about my view. Apparently, he had mentioned our class discussion to one of his mentors who did not agree with my estimation of the Biblical teaching about giving. As I always try to do when confronted about a particular point of my belief system, I spent the next several days re-evaluating my position.

From there, it seems that giving (and the larger discussion of stewardship) has come around for discussion and meditation again and again. Our Sunday School class talked about it last week. I jumped into a Facebook thread about giving the week before. Even today, I found myself thinking about these ideas as I shoveled 14 inches of snow off of my driveway.

As you might have guessed, I have a few questions and opinions about this important topic.

Question 1 - "Why do so many Christians accept the axiom that believers are required by God to tithe?"

In the minds of many, questioning whether believers must tithe is akin to questioning whether the earth is round. "What do you mean?" they exclaim, "Of course we have to tithe! That's what committed Christians do! After all, it's in the Bible." I concur that many committed Christians do give at least 10% of their income. (We won't go into the question of whether we must figure 10% of the gross or net income.) I also agree that tithing is in the Bible. My questions relate to whether God requires those Christians to give their 10% and where in the Bible tithing is found. From what I have been able to find (thanks to my handy-dandy new Logos Bible Software), tithing is an old covenant (aka-Old Testament) stipulation. Even when tithing is mentioned in the NT books, I have been unable to find any context where it is levied as an expectation upon the church. What I find instead is wording such as the following, "Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver." I find no mention of 10% here. Is that a reasonable amount for most Christians to give regularly? How would I know? It seems like it is, but the only financial situation I am familiar with is my own...and that's none of your business! (Insert smiley emoticon here.)

Question 2 - "How do we determine what qualifies as giving to God?"

I use a financial software program on my laptop that helps me keep track of our money. One of the line items in my checking account is called "Giving to God." (I gave it this moniker.) Sometimes, I wonder to myself, "Should the money from that fund be given exclusively to my church or another 'ministry'? Can I or should I use that money for other non-church-ifed giving? For instance, on a recent lunch excursion to Olive Garden with my family, I decided to give my server a rather substantial tip. (That is--substantial in terms of percentage.) I did this because she was extremely helpful in the service of our meal. I also did this because she mentioned that she had just graduated from college and had only recently gotten a job after an extended time of looking. I felt as though I might encourage and help her in a small way by increasing the amount of her gratuity. "Nothin' wrong with that," you say. I agree. My question is, does this "count" as giving to God? Should I pull the money for that tip from the aforementioned line in my budget? (I will let you, the reader, guess as to whether I did or not.) What about donations made to the Red Cross, Meals-on-Wheels, or other such charitable organizations? If I give my money in a spirit of gratitude and worship, does the Almighty view my donations as gifts to Him? I know what I think, but I wonder how other believers feel?

Question 3 - "Is it wise to view our giving and our stewardship as Christians in terms of investments and returns?"

Mutual funds, investments, 401(k)s, and day-trading seem to be all the rage these days. (Thanks in part to those silly E-Trade babies!) It seems that this "Charles Schwab" mentality has crept into our thinking as Christians. We want to give, but we only want to give to people or organizations that are "safe." Our churches have food pantries, but the resources therein are only available to church members or individuals who agree to come to church first. (In truth, I have been pondering much of the typical church philosophy regarding resources, and I have several questions about this area.) We may give our money to help the poor and underprivileged, but only if we can guarantee that the funds are used "wisely." A corollary of the "investment mindset" is the idea that the more we give the more we will get in return. Truthfully, the Bible does talk on several occasions about reaping bountifully when we give bountifully. Do you think this implies only physical, material reaping? I am not so sure. There's no doubt that God wants us to be wise stewards with all that He has given us. I know I still need to do some searching on this particular question, but I just can't help feeling like many Christians (including the one writing this post) and churches are sitting on their nest eggs and missing incredible opportunities to serve others through cheerful, open-hearted giving--even to those who don't necessarily deserve it.

For the record, I do believe Christians should be giving regularly. I also believe that believers bear the responsibility of meeting the needs of those who labor in the Word as the elders of the church. Beyond that, however, I wonder if maybe our giving (and the motives driving it) may need re-examination and refinement. I, for one, will continue to seek God's guidance in this important area.

Testiphony

"We want to be a good testimony."

This is something that has been emphasized to me for most of my life as a member of the Christian sub-culture. It is something that parents, preachers, teachers, mentors, family, and friends have said to me more times than I can count. It is something that I have said to myself more times than I can count. It is one of the standard tenets of my brand of American Christianity that is inculcated into our thinking with relentless zeal. As Christians, one of our main duties is to be a good testimony to unbelievers around us.

My purpose here is not to disagree with the preceding statement. In fact, I earnestly concur with it. There is no shortage of verses that clearly indicate that we are to shine as lights against the backdrop of darkness in the world around us. My purpose in these few paragraphs is instead to ask, "How are we to do this?" or more specifically, "What does a 'good testimony' really look like?" As always, what follows are simply my thoughts and opinions and are subject to disagreement and/or dialogue as you see fit. After all, I could be wrong.

Let me frame my comments around two primary theses:

1. To most Christians, a "good testimony" comprises two things--word-of-mouth Gospel sharing and Christian living.

2. Our traditional views of Christian living as the basis for a "good testimony" may need some refinement.

Concerning the first statement...

I believe these words to be true because that is how the concept of a "good testimony" has been presented to me for most of my 30 years. Beyond that, however, I think it is true because the Bible supports the idea. What tools do we have at our disposal to fulfill Christ's command to "make disciples of all nations"? We have our words and our actions, of course. We can verbally share the truths of the Gospel with the unsaved, and we can live our lives in such a way that unbelievers "see our good works and glorify our Father which is in heaven." (Matt 5:16) On this, I believe most Christians would agree.

How can we best put these two tools to our advantage in reaching the lost? Ah! That is where the Christian consensus is lost. Obviously, there are many prevailing theories out there about how to best present the gospel verbally to someone. For the time being, I am choosing to skirt those particular discussions. I want to focus on how we can present the Gospel non-verbally through our everyday lives. What is the best way to "be a good testimony?" That, my friend, is the question, and it leads us to the second of my opening propositions.

Concerning the second statement...

For starters, I should probably define what I mean by "traditional views of Christian living." I have to say, this is the point of discussion that was the catalyst for this post. Some recent conversations with fellow Christians prompted me to begin wondering. As I thought about it, it occurred to me that the traditional view of a "good testimony" revolves primarily around what we do or don't do as Christians. "We go to church 3 times a week." "We don't have wild parties at our house." "We wear (or don't wear) a certain style of clothing." In the minds of many, these things (and others like them) are a good testimony to the unsaved. That is what has been preached and practiced in many churches for many years.

I am not here to suggest that this preaching or the thinking behind it is wrong. I am not saying unequivocally that these things aren't a good testimony. I am simply wondering if the conventional wisdom is true that says unequivocally that they are a good testimony always and without exception . I wonder if some of our Christian badges of honor that we wear so proudly before an unbelieving world are really accomplishing the good that we think they are. Yes, the Bible refers to the world seeing our "good works" and glorifying God, but that verse seems to be predicated upon the unbelievers recognizing the works as "good." What if they don't see our "good works" as being particularly good? What happens to our good testimony then? We get frustrated because our unsaved friends and family don't accept Christ, and our unsaved friends and family get frustrated because we distance ourselves from them through all of our do's and don'ts. We appear to think and act as though we are better than them. Our "testi-mony" becomes more of a "testi-phony." I have had several opportunities in the last year or so to talk to unsaved friends and family, and that idea of "Christian elitism" appears to be a commonly-held opinion among them.

Let me mention two examples. Consistent church attendance is something that many Christians would include in their "Good Testimony Resume." This can, at times, be true. It may not always be true, however. Not every unbeliever looks at a Christian who attends services habitually and says, "Wow! I want what they have!" To them, it's just some religious thing that you do similar to the way Muslims pray or Catholics confess. It doesn't necessarily draw them to Christ. I am not suggesting that we stop attending church faithfully. I am suggesting that we open our eyes and realize that church attendance alone is not guaranteed to shine as a light to your unsaved neighbor. We need more than just that. I am also suggesting that you consider the possibility that there may be times when forgoing attendance at a service may actually provide you with a better opportunity to be a "good testimony" than stubbornly insisting that you have to be in your pew.

Here is a second example. Many Christians (including me) have refused to attend a family function, work party, or other social event because of the fact that certain "worldly" elements would be present (alcohol, rock music, dancing, smoking, etc...). Our refusal to attend demonstrates our devotion to our faith and shines brightly as a testimony to the lost--or so the traditional thinking goes. Now, I realize that this is a tricky example because there are any number of contingencies that create any number of possibilities as to what a Christian ought to do or not do. (Translation--there is no "cookie-cutter" answer.) I do think, however, that we might need to reevaluate the maxim that says, "Don't drink, smoke, or chew or run with those who do." The Pharisees in Jesus' day were very good at this, but the spiritual impact they had on their world was nothing we would want to emulate. I fear that many unbelievers view our lack of attendance (notice I did not say lack of participation) as nothing more than religious snobbery. Perhaps, instead of relying on not going at all to serve as a good testimony, we should consider the possibility of going for the purpose of being a good testimony. There are many ramifications of this, I know, but I don't think it hurts to at least consider it.

Those are just two examples of many that could be given. In conclusion, let me just say that I think it is a bit lazy and a bit naive to rely upon our separation from the world as our primary means of reaching it. We must use our words and our lives to preach the Gospel to every creature. Perhaps it is time we took stock of how we can best use our lives to shine as a glowing testimony for Christ. Remember, Jesus didn't pray that God would take us out of the world, but that God would keep and protect us while we are in it (John 17:15). Maybe all of us could stand to get a little more "in the world" and be a good testimony while we are there.

Ashamed (Read the whole post before you comment)

Well, it happened again. It doesn't happen very often, but when it does I really, really don't like it. It is not an emotion I enjoy having--shame. That is, however, the only word to describe it. Let me explain.

I am not exactly what you would call a news junkie. I catch the local evening news every once and a while, and I try to read a few headlines on the Internet when I can, but I don't really keep up with all the goings on. In recent weeks, I remember hearing something about someone burning Korans somewhere, but I really didn't give it much attention--until this last Friday morning. I was watching the morning news shows and nearly all of them were highlighting the story of Reverend Terry Jones from Gainesville, Florida. As I crunched on my Wheat Chex, listened to the talking heads on the screen, and saw the images (including signs from Jones' church that said "Islam is of the Devil" and "Burn a Koran Day"), I felt it in the pit of my stomach. I have to say, at that moment, sitting in my living room, I was ashamed to be a Christian. I know that sounds extreme, but that is the truth. Let me clarify. I was not ashamed of Christ or my faith in Him as my savior. I was not ashamed of the Bible or even the fact that I attend church regularly. I was ashamed to be known as a Christian because of how I saw that word being represented on the screen before me. I sat there and wondered how any good for the cause of Christ could come from either Rev. Jones' demands that the mosque be moved or his threats to burn copies of the Islamic scriptures. As I walked to work that morning, I thought, "If that is what people will think of when they hear that I am a Christian, I am not so sure that I want to be known as a Christian." I was...ashamed.

This is not the only time I have felt this. In recent years, I have found myself wanting to be more and more disassociated with the American Christian sub-culture. When I hear about things like Rev. Jones and his Koran-burning, I feel ashamed. When I read on the Internet about a church in Kansas that protests the funerals of soldiers in the name of God, I feel ashamed. When I hear of churches whose greatest badge of honor is their fight against Contemporary Christian Music or women wearing pants or the use of certain English translations, I feel ashamed. When I see churches and the people in them investing such time, effort, and money into winning culture wars like the gay marriage issue or the teaching of evolution in public schools, I feel ashamed. (Not because I support gay marriage or the teaching of evolution, but because I think that approach misses the point.) When I hear of families where the father no longer attends church because of the way he has been treated by some autocratic pastor, I feel ashamed. When I hear the stories of young people who have rejected their godly heritage and upbringing because of a graceless, legalistic approach to the Christian walk, I feel ashamed. When I watch a film like Lord Save Us from Your Followers and see what most Americans think it means to be a Christian, I feel ashamed...and sometimes I even feel angry.

But then, I start thinking about myself and my life. That is when the tables begin to turn. When I think of all the times I have failed my Lord and my family, I feel ashamed. When I think of all the times I have been prejudiced, proud, or arrogant in my beliefs, I feel ashamed. When I think of every instance when I have allowed lust to rule my mind or my eyes, I feel ashamed. When I think of all the impatience, laziness, selfishness, anger, materialism, and every other vice that has worked its way into my heart, I feel...ashamed and discouraged.

Then I remember. All of us who claim the name of Christ as our banner (including the Rev. Joneses of the world) are just broken, frail, fallen, confused, and scared sinners who have been rescued by the grace and mercy of a loving and patient Father. All of us have shortcomings. All of us bring our own unique set of baggage to the cross, and carry it with us as we make our pilgrimage through this life. All of us have failed and will do so again in the future. All of us as Christians are mere humans and are subject to the frailties of being such.

So then...I pray. I look to God and ask for His help. "God, help me to be what you want me to be, so that I can show those around me what it truly means to be a follower of Christ. Mold my thinking and my conscience to conform to your way and your logic. Teach me what it means to know you and to walk with you in every moment of life. Produce in me and through me the fruit that you desire to see. Help me, God. I cannot live as a true Christian on my own. I know that one day I will see you face to face and give account for the life I have been given by you. Do in me today what you must so that, on that day, I won't have to feel...ashamed."