An Environment of Kindness
Know Thyself?
The Discipleship Dilemma is hard for some of us to swallow. We may not have been trained to think of spiritual formation as the journey to know both Jesus and ourselves. It feels selfish. We may experience guilt for taking the time and effort to uncover the hidden ideas and desires that govern us. Aren’t we just supposed to die to ourselves?
David Benner writes,
“To suggest that knowing God plays an important role in Christian spirituality will not surprise anyone. To suggest that knowing self plays an equally important role will set off warning bells for many people… Yet an understanding of the interdependence of knowing self and God has held a lasting and respected place in Christian theology.
Thomas à Kempis argued that “a humble self-knowledge is a surer way to God than a search after deep learning,” and Augustine’s prayer was ‘Grant, Lord, that I may know myself that I may know thee.’ These are but a small sample of the vast number of theologians who have held this position since the earliest days of the church.
Christian spirituality involves a transformation of the self that occurs only when God and self are both deeply known. Both, therefore, have an important place in Christian spirituality. There is no deep knowing of God without a deep knowing of self, and no deep knowing of self without a deep knowing of God. John Calvin wrote, ‘Nearly the whole of sacred doctrine consists in these two parts: knowledge of God and of ourselves.’”
This journey inward has a place in modern Christianity, though it’s normally limited to counseling rooms or support groups. It’s okay to explore our personalities, stories, talents, tendencies, wounds, behavioral patterns, relationship attachments, and governing assumptions if things are really bad – if we’re addicted to drugs or alcohol or if we find ourselves in situations that our coping mechanisms struggle to numb such as a betrayal, death, illness, or divorce.
But if these same personalities, stories, talents, tendencies, wounds, behavioral patterns, relationship attachments, and governing assumptions remain unexplored in calmer times, is that really freedom?
A New Way to Be Human
After all, that is what we’re talking about—freedom. Freedom from fear, anxiety, people-pleasing, harmful cultural pressures, conflict avoidance, destructive thought patterns, and unhealthy relational attachments. Freedom from the need to control God, others, and ourselves. Freedom from having to fix everyone and everything around us. Freedom from having to fix ourselves.
This type of freedom isn’t just about what we’re rescued from – it’s what we’re rescued into: a new reality, a new way of life. It’s a freedom to wrestle, doubt, and explore. To rejoice, celebrate, and laugh. To grieve, lament, and cry. To be authentically us.
This central aspect of discipleship often remains disconnected from our idea of discipleship. We assume discipleship is about knowing and doing more stuff.
Yet, one way to describe spiritual formation is the ongoing journey to interior freedom. It comes as we authentically probe our hearts with Jesus for dark and light ideas and desires, for ordered and disordered attachments.
And this isn’t just freedom from sin and death. Let’s be candid—we often futurize both of those freedoms anyway. It’s freedom into a new way of being, a new way to be human right now.
On Being Authentic
The word “authentic” is often abused today, yet it plays a crucial role in our quest to become freer disciples, and it deserves to be recovered and redeemed.
Isn’t this what happens in a therapy session or an AA meeting? We finally drop our facades and lay out our emotions, hurts, nightmares, expectations, fears, and anxieties in a place that’s designed to be safe and secure. We aren’t jockeying for position or trying to look good. We’re raw, unfiltered, and messy; in the midst of the mess, we begin to experience healing. We generally don’t heal because someone tells us what to do. The environment itself – the kindness, the atmosphere, and the acceptance – is the healing mechanism.
Those who struggle with legalism may not resonate with the word “authentic.” They find it dangerous because it suggests the allowance of harmful individual and cultural tendencies. However, I’ve yet to come across someone healed of a destructive pattern who first didn’t have the courage to recognize it. An authentic admission is an initial step in any recovery effort.
And the freest people I’ve met are also the most joyful. They have a sense of wonder about them that most of us lose by the time we’re 20. They are spontaneously curious, find delight in the most mundane things, and seem to forget themselves when engaging with others.
Another reason legalists don’t care for the word “authentic” is that it suggests to them that every desire or idea we find in our hearts is good and, thus, to be celebrated.
But is that authenticity? I don’t think so. To be authentic is to have the courage to allow Jesus to reveal the entirety of who we are – the good, the bad, and the ugly, as they say. And then to deal with whatever we find as He does: with kindness, gentleness, and His ever-present invitation to form our hearts, bit by bit, closer to His.
Authenticity and humility are joined at the hip. And we embrace both on our path toward inner freedom.
A Dog’s Life
One of the challenges as we turn inward is that our hearts don’t always feel safe enough to be authentic with God, ourselves, or anyone else. We fear being judged, shamed, shunned, or ignored.
Perhaps we’ve experienced “church hurt,” and our ideas about God don’t suggest He’s someone to be trusted. We may not even find Him kind. Perhaps we’ve been betrayed by a family member, spouse, or friend, so being authentic with another person sounds crazy. Why would we take the risk? And perhaps we struggle to be authentic with ourselves because, truth be told, we would rather not know. Our pride, ego, or shamefulness is too powerful a deterrent.
That’s why we peer into our depths when our world falls apart, if at all. The inward journey is often our last resort—when our hearts finally realize they have no other options.
A few weeks ago, I made the mistake of watching an online video featuring a kind stranger rescuing and rehabilitating an abandoned dog. Now, my social media feeds feature nothing but dogs and cats. That’s ironic, considering I don’t own either; I have an aquarium. However, I’m discovering fish don’t really enjoy being petted.
Yet there’s something in the video worth pondering.
When a gentle person finds an abandoned dog on the road or in a shelter, the dog is often paralyzed. She attempts to melt into a corner, immovable, hoping not to be seen. She may glance around furtively and become anxious when approached.
Someone trained to help heal these dogs will often do something extraordinary—they’ll simply sit down with the dog and do nothing for a long, long time. Perhaps the trainer will speak to the dog softly and gently, even if the dog resists touching.
Depending on the dog’s condition, this paralyzed state may persist for weeks. The trainer does the same thing day after day. He sits down next to the dog just to be with her. Then, perhaps one day, the dog will accept food from the trainer’s hand. Then maybe a brief touch or a pat on the head. And, ever so slowly, the dog begins to feel and experience an inner safety that allows her to be more vulnerable. She plays, frolics, and allows herself to be petted and held. Usually, these videos end with the dog lying comfortably with a new owner or prancing around the yard with other canines.
Through the trainer’s patient, kind, consistent, gentle approach, a rejected, abused, abandoned throwaway is freed—free to rest, play, enjoy, and experience her owner’s unconditional love. Free to be her authentic dog self.
Humans are far more complex and intricate than dogs (well, some dog lovers may disagree), but might we find some parallels? What if spiritual formation isn’t so much about education as it is about allowing God to slowly and patiently woo us into a better state of rest and freedom, regardless of our circumstances?
Whether we’re brash and arrogant or introverted and lonely, perhaps our hearts are longing for someone to sit with us, in whatever refined or rejected state we find ourselves, and just be there.
The Transformation of Ideas
I’ve written before that these ideas that power us are not so much intellectual conclusions as they are experienced realities of which we may not be conscious. We may not be aware that we find our identity in influential people. We may not realize we’re constantly attracted to seductive, exploitative personalities. We may not contemplate why we no longer talk to our spouse about our stories, emotions, and desires. We may be bound to money or, sex or power, but we’re not yet awake to our reality. We can’t see it even if a helpful friend tries to tell us. We won’t see it.
Because these powerful ideas are often experienced realities, we may not be transformed simply by being told they govern us. We are transformed through experience and relationships.
Anyone in a healthy, long-term marriage will attest to this. If the marriage is characterized by relentless kindness, two hearts flow slowly and inevitably toward one another over time. Rough edges are smoothed. Anxieties are softened. Anger wanes. Gentleness abounds, as does patience, forbearance, and generosity. Freedom grows.
These hard-to-uncover ideas must be explored authentically to be revealed, yet they aren’t transformed by education alone. This is one reason genuine Christian communities should look and behave radically differently from others.
Not All At Once
Despite our desire to fix ourselves or others overnight, let’s be grateful God has no such intention. If He were to reveal all of our harmful patterns or hidden talents all at once, we’d be overwhelmed. We are grateful for our limitations. He is far more patient and gentle than we can imagine. Yes, He deeply desires us to act, think, relate, and love like Jesus, though His kindness allows us to fumble along with Him as our soft-spoken trainer.
And so should we aspire to be with others and ourselves. We may have come into the kingdom quickly, but our journey into deep discipleship is a lifelong affair. If you’ve ever been irritated or frustrated with yourself or someone close to you who just can’t seem to grow, “get it,” or doesn’t see the harm they’re inflicting on themselves and others, let’s remember the kindness of the stranger who sits with the abandoned dog.
Perhaps the point isn’t to cure every ailment, broken story, arrogant trait, or malicious intent overnight. Maybe the point is just to be with people. To sit and whisper gentle reassurances. To show up, day after day after day.
