Sometimes I just want to say whatever I damn well feel like saying.

Why? Because I have thoughts and opinions. Because it feels good to speak my mind. And because I can. Freedom of speech is protected under the U.S. Constitution, and as an American I’ll make the most of that First Amendment, thank you very much.

Jesus didn’t enjoy such freedom of speech under the government of his day. The Roman Empire, notoriously, was not too keen on citizens saying whatever they felt like saying. There were swift and harsh punishments. So for that contrast I am deeply grateful. I feel profoundly blessed to be an American. For this and many other reasons, I’d rather live in no other country at no other time thus far in human history.

As it turns out, isn’t as much of a deal-breaker to Jesus as we might assume. Why is that? I think it’s because he understands how much of what he says is quite unbelievable and hard to swallow. In the gap between what he knows and what we are able to wrap our minds around we experience his great patience.

Like a good father talking to his toddler daughter about how plants grow.

Like a good teacher explaining a mind-boggling mathematical equation to her students.

Like a good economist giving advice to a teenager about principles of saving and investing.

Like a good doctor explaining a course of treatment to a patient.

If you want to know what God Looks like, look at Jesus.

If you want to know what God Sounds like, listen to Jesus.

If you want to know how God acts, watch Jesus.

If you want to know what God loves or hates, pay attention to Jesus.

If you want to know what God’s purposes are, note the trajectory of Jesus.

No, Jesus is not physically present, and that, to be honest, is a complication. It’s at least not ideal if you’re trying to get to know someone. So then, on to the next best thing: Read the Gospels. More than that, marinate yourself in the Gospels. Let them be the primary source of input about Jesus and God and the Spirit and faith and sin and humanity and how it all blends together. Let them be the primary force that shapes how you see reality.

More than once in your lifetime. Why? Because that’s just what happens whenever anyone gets close to Jesus… and then gets even closer to Jesus. Conversion after conversion. Most of them are little conversions, like tiny tremors in the earth that barely register on a seismograph. A handful you will feel rumble beneath your feet. One or two will make it feel like your whole world is about to crumble.

However that may strike you, trust me that it’s all good news.

It’s not always as easy as it sounds. It doesn’t always come as quickly as we would like.

Despite our best intentions and deepest longings, sometimes our hearts are just a bit too hard. Sometimes our eyes are just a bit too blind. Sometimes our understanding is just a bit too dull. Sometimes our whole selves are just a bit too something.

That’s the funny thing about faith: What we need most often eludes us. It is outside of our control. It doesn’t always work to turn trust on and off like a light switch, or to turn love on and off like a faucet. Faith is more of a gift than a paycheck: It can be received, but not earned.

Doesn’t mean it’s time to quit. Not necessarily.

If you’re doing good work yet feel unappreciated, if you’re impacting individual lives but the crowds don’t notice, if you come alive doing what you’re doing but no one seems to care, you have two options:

Quit.

Keep going.

Don’t miss your opportunity to take a few steps forward.

In the modern developed world, we don’t often have to think about light. We rarely have to worry about its absence. If we’re driving at night, the car has headlights—including high beams in case it’s extra dark. With the flick of a switch, a room is illuminated. Except of course for the occasional power outage. But even then, we have flashlights stashed in every room. Even our cell phones now have flashlights.

Light is within our control.

Is a failed Messiah. Always has been. It’s why the crowds around Jesus couldn’t make heads or tails of his “Son of Man will be lifted up” talk. They knew that “Son of Man” was a euphemism for the Messiah, and that “lifted up” was a euphemism for crucifixion.

How could one liberate people from the oppression of the Empire if he himself was killed by the Empire? Extreme cognitive dissonance.

Today, Lord Christ, may you drive out
the prince of this world,
from every mind and heart,
from every body and soul,
from every home and workplace,
from every government and community,
so that all people might live free
of tyranny, suffering, and injustice.
There are so many, both seen and unseen,
who vie for power.
May your power overcome all rivals.

Becoming a spiritual person must, by definition, involve learning to discern the voice of the Divine. In a noisy, raucous world, this is a particularly daunting task. But really, the world has always been louder than the voice of God. If it has ever been possible at all, then it must still be possible today.

The challenge, I think, has always been basically the same. Since God’s voice can come to us in a variety of ways—natural phenomena, other spiritual beings, other human beings, our own inner thoughts and emotions, etc.—then it is easy to misidentify him.