“I, therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you to walk worthy of the calling with which you were called.”
~ Ephesians 4:1 (NKJV)

Walk worthy of the calling.

This is a phrase that’s been lingering in my heart and mind for the last year, ever since I really began studying those opening verses of Ephesians 4. How do we do that? How do we walk worthy of the calling of being a Christ-follower?

Well first there’s the idea of walking. Walking is an ACTION. More, it’s one of the most common actions we take. It’s something we do every day. We walk. We walk to each thing we’re doing, through each thing we’re doing. We walk out our faith, our beliefs. But walking is still WORK. It uses up energy. It involves the whole body. Walking with God means that we’re working alongside Him, engaged in active communication with Him. Much like in the opening chapters of Genesis, right? Adam and Eve walked with God. Enoch walked with God before he was taken up to haven.

But Paul doesn’t just instruct us here to walk. He qualifies it. We need to walk in a particular way: worthy. Like, we can all walk, stride along, living out what we think is good. Everyone does that, whether Christian or not. What’s special about our walk? What makes it worthy?

The calling. We’re not just called to do our own thing. We’re not just called to have our own opinions. We’re not just called to make money or accomplish what we dream of. We’re called to be Christ to the world. 

In church, we’ve been reading through I Clement (not part of the cannon but one of the earliest Christian writings; a letter from the leaders of the Church in Rome to the Church in Corinth). In the chapter we read last week, Clement drew on this same phrase. He calls out the Corinthians, who had been pursuing selfish ambitions and had ejected good men from leadership for these ambitious reasons, not because of any actual complaint against them, that they were proving themselves “unworthy of their Christian profession.”

Now, profession here means that they have professed Christ–they’ve claimed Him. But I think our modern idea of a profession being a vocation or job actually adds some interesting understanding. Because the thing we profess to do or be becomes a huge part of our lives, right? We introduce ourselves with it. We think in terms of it. It defines quite a lot about us. Christ need to be what we profess most. We need to be Christian above and before writer, homemaker, lawyer, accountant, teacher, engineer, farmer, vet, dentist, driver, or whatever. Because whether we put it first or not, others know we have claimed it. And they judge CHRIST according to what WE do.

Yep, lots of pressure there. WE are how the world sees Jesus. WE give Christianity a good or bad name. So if we’re more concerned with how we’re treated than in how we’re treating other…if we spend more time serving ourselves than them…if we only love our own and not our enemies…then we are giving Jesus a bad name. We’re unworthy of that profession of being His. We’re not walking worthy of the calling.

Now, HOW we walk out that greater calling is going to look different for each of us…and it’s going to get into the particulars that each of us are called to do. Whatever you’re called to do–to teach or create or make music or minister to the poor or encourage others, etc–you’re called to do in a way that’s worthy of Him. A way that glorifies Him. A way that points to Him.

So are we? Are we living out our callings in a way that’s worthy of Him? 

This is something we tend to notice pretty quickly in others…let’s take some time to examine the question for us. 

I’d love to hear what everyone here is called to do! What calling are you walking out now, and what dreams do you hold in your heart?

Last week my husband was reading The Picture of Dorian Gray — a book that neither of us had read before, though we assumed we knew what it was about. Turns out our preconceptions were a bit off, LOL. As he was reading, he would update me on what was going on in the story and the thoughts he had about it (those first chapters were just FULL of quotables!). And at one point, as the title character was drawn into the corrupt world of indulgence and hedonism by the point of view character, David said, “You know, Oscar Wilde makes it really understandable. Because vice looks so interesting. And virtue looks so boring.”

He likes to say these sorts of things to goad me, LOL.

Well, I was quick with a comeback this time: “No–imitation of virtue is boring. Real virtue is absolutely fascinating.”

I may have come up with it as an off-the-cuff retort, but it settled in my spirit. Because I think it’s so very true.

We’re living in a culture that was built on Christian ideals, and though said culture has shifted away from those values, they’re still present enough to be recognizable…but also to be undesirable by so many. Why? Because generally speaking virtues are pitched to us as a bunch of negatives: don’t drink, don’t curse, don’t overindulge, don’t be prideful, don’t be vain, don’t be selfish, don’t lie, don’t have sex, don’t party, don’t…don’t…don’t…

We all know what human nature says to a list of Don’ts though, right?

Here’s the thing, though. Virtue isn’t about what we don’t do. It’s about what we do. This is what I absolutely love about reading the Gospels–Jesus, too, lived in a society that was all about the Don’t. And He shook it up by focusing instead on the Do. Do good on the Sabbath. Go the extra mile. Give more than people demand. Love your enemy. Love your neighbor. Be born of the Spirit.

Real virtue looks like doing the illogical thing for love. Real virtue looks like crazy selflessness in order to demonstrate who Christ is. Real virtue looks like choosing the radical way instead of the fashionable way.

And that, my friends, is fascinating indeed. Christ didn’t have crowds of thousands following him because he was boring, or because of the things he didn’t do. He had people following him everywhere he went because of what he was doing. He was healing, casting our demons, making a feast out of a famine. He was challenging people to demand more of themselves, to go a step further, to not just ACT right (imitation) but to BE right (in their hearts).

Where are we just imitating the right actions today but not really meaning them? Where are we just saying the words without actually living them out? Where are we content with having a portrait of faith in our lives instead of a live-action version?

Following the rules for the sake of being a rule-follower doesn’t ever change the world. And isn’t really virtue. It’s just an imitation. A counterfeit.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to have a counterfeit faith, an imitation of faith. I don’t want to face my Savior at the End and have him say, “But what did you do? Who among the outcasts did you love? Who saw Me through you?” I don’t want people to look at me, wrinkle their nose, and say, “Man, being a Christian looks boring.”

Being a Christian should be edge-of-your-seat excitement. Because it should mean going where others are afraid to go, doing what most people would never do, living on faith instead of “security.” Being a Christian should be completely fascinating to those who aren’t (yet). If instead they’re looking at us and calling us boring…maybe we’re doing it wrong. Maybe we’re not really living out the true virtues of Christ…maybe we’re just a faded imitation.

Where do we need God to breathe some life into our faith today?

Interruptions. We all know them. And we all hate them (unless of course we’re being interrupted in a task we don’t want to do, LOL). They are distractions. They are things that keep us from doing what we want to be doing, or what we should be doing. They are those annoying, frustrating moments that pull us out of our groove, throw a wrench in our works, or otherwise discombobulate us.

Interruptions are life’s hiccups. And we ALL know how annoying hiccups can be!

Back in September, one of my devotional readings from Live in Grace, Walk in Love by Bob Goff was all about interruptions. I read it while I was away on a writing retreat–one of the few times of uninterrupted writing I manage in a year–so I was especially aware of how far I will go to avoid those dratted interruptions. When I returned from my retreat, I took the time to muse about this topic to the #BeBetter group, and it was something we could all agree with. A few days later, my life was seriously interrupted by a 5-day hospital trip and diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes for my son.

For the next few months, I was left feeling like all I had left were interruptions. My plans, derailed by health issues. My days, interrupted constantly by the need to check blood sugars. My sleep, thoroughly broken by the same. I’ve always loved uninterrupted spans of time in which I can just work. Just be. Just do what I feel I need to do. (Which makes it rather ironic that we chose to homeschool and have both of us working from home. Because lemme just tell you, there is no such thing as a day without many, many interruptions, LOL. As in, the interruptions even have interruptions, until I sit back down hours later and don’t even know what I’d originally been doing! Bet we can all commiserate with that too, right?)

But here’s the thing. Maybe…maybe we’re looking at it all wrong. That’s what Goff pointed out in the devotional, and it’s something I’ve been pondering for months since.

He points out that Jesus was met with constant interruptions too. He was on His way to help one person when He’s stopped by another. Or was on His way to the mountaintop for a much-needed retreat and refresher when He’s interrupted by crowds swarming Him. He was trying to enjoy a nice meal when someone came in to pour oil on His feet. His life was a life of constant interruptions too.

But how did He react?

Well, we don’t see Him complaining. We don’t see Him pushing the interruptions aside. We don’t see Him sighing and getting overwhelmed by frustration.

We see Him pausing. We see Him being constantly “moved by love” for those interruptions, those people so desparate to touch even the hem of their garment that they’d haunt Him through the streets. We see Him recognizing that every single interruption is its own appointment. Not just a distraction from what He was “supposed” to be doing–but a worthwhile task in itself.

Do we view our interruptions the same way?

I’m trying to do that, to view things in a new way.

That the phone call is an unexpected conversation, not an interruption.
The kid at my elbow is a chance to love on one of the most important people in my life, not a distraction.
The email that comes in, filled with demands and exclamation points, is a chance to serve someone in a moment of need, not just something taking me away from my to-do list.
That 2 a.m. blood sugar check is an act of love for my son and a chance to pray, not a half-hour of missing sleep.

What would change in our day if we started viewing each interruption as its own appointment, ordained by God? How much less frustrated would we be if we realized that our time is not our own, and so when our scheduled activity is forced to pause, we recognize it as God tapping us on the shoulder? What if we could seriously view each unexpected thing as a chance to serve Him by serving others and showing His love?

When that woman with the issue of blood touched the hem of His garment, the man who’d been taking Him to his house to heal His daughter no doubt called it a devastating interruption. But the woman called it a life-changing miracle. And Jesus called it another chance to show the love of the Father to a hurting heart. He still healed the little girl–brought her back from death, even. He performed a bigger miracle because of the interruption. And another besides.

We serve a God whose love is not divided by interruptions–it’s multiplied. So let’s rejoice in that assurance…and try to remember that each moment matters…whether it’s filled with what we’d planned or something else entirely.

In the book world, there’s a lot of talk about whether it’s worthwhile to give things away for free. People are of multiple mindsets on this. Some think it’s a great way to draw in new readers. Others think it devalues our work. What I know is this: when I get something for free–by which I mean the item simply has no cost assigned to it–very rarely do I actually read it. Why? Because I have so many things waiting to be read that I paid for, or to which a definite value was attached. For instance, one of the perks of being an author with the Baker Group is that we get to pick out a few books from the catalogue each time we’re in it. But we’re given a set value. So I know every title I pick means another that I don’t. There’s still value there. The same goes for if I get a coupon or store credit/cash. It’s a set value. Each item I buy with it means another I don’t. There’s still a cost.

And then there are gifts. They cost us nothing. But we know there’s value, right? We know that someone who cares about us paid something for that item, or invested time in the creation of it. When Judith from church gave me hand-knitted tea cozies for Christmas, it wasn’t just a matter of the ten dollars of yarn, it was a matter of the hours upon hours I knew very well it took her to create that. It has value. It has worth.

Then there’s salvation. It’s free…but it’s not just free. It’s a free gift–paid for by Jesus. And my friends, it’s COSTLY. So, so costly. He couldn’t just offer us salvation with no cost to himself, because then it wouldn’t have value. It wouldn’t satisfy the debt that was owed. He paid it. And then He gave it. Free to us, but certainly not free to Him.

We know this, obviously. We use all the right words when we talk about it. But so often…so often I feel like we toss it around like a free download without really thinking about the value. Or at the least, without putting that value above everything else. We talk about the price Jesus paid, but because it isn’t a cost to us, we offer that so freely and yet don’t give of our own resources unless it’s convenient. We stop giving before it hurts.

He gave until it killed Him.

As we enter the season of Lent, those forty days leading up to His sacrifice, will you join me in really contemplating the cost of this free gift? Let’s pause each day to enumerate the cost.

• Instead of a life of comfort, He chose the life of a wanderer
• Instead of the security of a family, He chose to find family among the people who needed Him so desperately
• Instead of making friends with the powerful, He brought the touch of Heaven to the weak
• Instead of using His authority to bring Himself riches, He gave up everything to suffer with the poor
• Instead of hoarding what He had to provide for Himself and His disciples, He took a little and multiplied it to feed the masses
• Instead of seeking a peaceful life that ended in an easy death at a ripe old age, He offered His life up for us in His prime

Life is the most sacred thing in this world. It is so much more valuable than anything we can purchase with money, isn’t it? Who among us wouldn’t trade everything we have if necessary to keep our child or our spouse or our parent alive? Let me just tell you, when your baby is struggling to draw breath and fighting for consciousness, you don’t care how much the helicopter costs, you just want him to get the help he needs. Life is sacred. Life is precious. Life is beyond price.

And that’s what Jesus gave for us. Everything. Absolutely everything. Let’s make sure we pause to really appreciate that this year.