I am a hypocrite.

Two of the things I look forward to each day are the daily challenges for my online sudoku and solitaire. It is my chance to test my intellectual and problem-solving abilities and congratulate myself when I succeed. Though not a daily challenge, I also enjoy hitting the golf course at every opportunity to see if I can improve on my previous round. Suffice it to say, I look forward to these tests of my abilities.



However (and here is where the hypocrisy comes in), I do not look forward to the daily challenges to my spiritual life. My unstated prayer for each day is that I won’t run into anything that might cause me to have to “up” my spiritual game. I want Satan to be on a permanent vacation.

A couple of weeks ago, I restarted Priscilla Shirer’s Armor of God bible study, and I now understand why I have this difference in perspective.

In the former challenges (sudoku, solitaire, golf) all possibilities of success lie within my own capabilities: my problem-solving skills or my golfing abilities and my willingness to improve both.

In the latter (my spiritual battles) it doesn’t––but that’s what I was trying to do. Improve or succeed on my own. But the study reminded me that we are to “put off” our old self (which would include that reliance on self-sufficiency) and “put on” the Armor of God. And that is what I had forgotten: It is God’s truth, God’s righteousness, God’s peace, God’s shield of faith (faith = trust and reliance on God), God’s salvation, and God’s word. These are the attributes that defeat Satan, and they are God’s not mine.

In light of this new revelation, I think I can now look at those daily challenges to my spiritual life in a new way. Each one provides me an opportunity to witness all that God is able to do if I just rely on Him.

I have a confession to make. I love to watch competitive cooking shows, which may not seem that out of the ordinary except for the fact that I am not an avid cook. However I love the end results––those really flavorful and beautiful dishes. It’s just that I don’t have the patience to see me through the process.

That said, I have learned a lot from these cooking shows, and one particular lesson comes from the process of reduction.



Now for those of you who do cook, please bear with me, as I insert the Wikipedia definition for those very few who don’t: “Reduction is the process of thickening and intensifying the flavor of a liquid mixture such as a soup, sauce, wine, or juice by simmering or boiling.”

Please notice four things here. First, reduction can happen slowly (simmering) or quickly (boiling), but 2) it takes heat, and the result is 3) less of the original so that what is left is 4) more flavorful.

When John the Baptist’s disciples were concerned that Jesus was “stealing” his followers, John employed this concept of reduction: “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30).

As Christians we, like John the Baptist, need to realize that our life should be a constant process of reduction. Christ’s qualities and purposes should become more visible in us while our self-serving characteristics should gradually decrease. But this transformation is not always easy because there are some areas in our lives that we don’t want to disappear, like our opinions and rights and desires. We want to keep them. In fact, sometimes we even want them enhanced.

Hence, the need for heat . . . aka . . . trials.

Paul illustrates this reduction concept in Romans 5:3-4 and James 1:2-4:

… but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

So when we experience the heat of difficult times, we should not despair, for while it might be uncomfortable, it is doing its work of taking away the excess of us and leaving the fragrant aroma and flavor of Christ.

If this past year has taught me anything, it has taught me two things.

First, right when I think I have a handle on things … I don’t; and second, semantics does matter.

Last year was a tough one in many ways. Plans were interrupted. Life was put on hold. Dreams were deferred. I don’t know what the normal “grief” cycle for something like this is, but I personally went from compliance––to weariness––to anger to ______––and here is where I had a choice between two words –– resignation or surrender. And no, this decision was not “just a matter of semantics”—of personally ascribing a different meaning to a word to promote my own meaning. In this case, there is consensus that these two words do indeed mean something different.



Though both at their core mean “giving up,” resignation connotes a hopelessness, of not seeing a way out of a situation, of throwing one’s hands up in defeat and giving up on possibilities. 

Surrender also denotes giving up, but in surrender, a person gives himself over to someone else. He submits to someone else's authority. A stronger force. And with surrender, there is still a hope that life will be good if not better.

We know from history that surrendering to another human being will not always end up well. However, surrendering to God––an omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent, just, and loving God––who has our best interests in mind––will always be better. It just doesn’t seem like that to us because surrender means giving up our personal freedom and right to make our own choices and dictate our own lives … which always seems like a good idea until … we realize there is only so far that will really go.

A while back a friend of mine shared the following series of statements by Dr. Gary Smalley from his book The DNA of Relationships. They are statements of surrender––not resignation. Of surrendering to God. Here they are:

Today I will reduce my earthly expectations to as close to zero as I can get.

I will accept anything that happens as filtered by you.

I will use any disappointment as an opportunity to worship you.

I will sit quietly and ask you what you are telling me to do.

Last year, I realized there was only so much control I had over what happened around me––both on the world and the personal stage. There were things I wanted to happen that I had no power to make happen––but God did. There were disappointments and difficult times I wanted to avoid––but God didn’t. There was confusion and questions about why things were happening that I couldn’t answer––but God could. And there were walls I was butting my head against hoping I could make them move, but I couldn’t––but God could.

So this year, I decided I would start each day with reading and thinking about those four statements, realizing that if I began each day reminding myself that God was indeed in control, that perhaps I could better handle what the day brought.​

The result? Not surprisingly, because He said it would, it has brought a “peace … which surpasses all understanding” (Philippians 4:7).

I could hear the rain pelting the metal awnings outside my dining area and the wind playing havoc with the wind chimes. Then, suddenly, all went quiet . . . and I knew what that meant. I got up from the couch and looked out the front window and there it was–– drifting down in the gleam of the streetlamp––snow.

Though I live in the Northstate . . . where the Coastal, Trinity, and Cascade mountains meet, and only about 50 miles from both Mt. Shasta and Mt. Lassen . . . at 495 feet, snow is not a frequent visitor here. Except for our occasional Snowmageddon events (1-2 feet) once every ten years or so, we are mostly a “one and done” –– “6 inches” –– kind of community.

Though snow, like every other weather pattern, has its dangers and causes problems, it––above all others––has a special image and beauty. It is pristine and connotes peace and purity. And there is something magical about a snow-swept landscape before a single person has walked across it.

Perhaps then it is no surprise that the Bible uses “snow” to show how God can cleanse us from our sins––completely and beyond our expectations:

“Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow” (Isaiah 1:18).

Purify me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow (Psalm 51:7).

But it’s not only that.

My cousin, who lives in Southern California, shared the above photo with the family the other day. It was a wonderful reminder to me. No, it wasn’t the beautiful snow-covered San Bernardino Mountains that captured my attention. It was the dichotomy in the foreground––the juxtaposition of palm trees and snow.

Sometimes we think we have strayed too far, or experienced too much hurt, or _____ (fill in the blank), for God to find us. But that snow next to those palm trees reminded me that we are never out of reach of God’s love, mercy, or forgiveness. He knows exactly where we are and can bless us anywhere. As Romans 8:38-39 reminds us, nothing can separate us from His love.