Pathos and Passion: The Jeremy Doyle Story

Recognizing God as a being of pathos is important for the following reason: We obtain the significance of our pathos, and the power of our passion, from God Himself; and it’s modeled in the grief and compassion described in the Bible that motivated God to send His one and only Son, as well as in the passion of Jesus Christ in the course of His living, suffering, dying, and His eventual resurrection. In short, God is the focus and example of our pathos and passion. If we are to live as God’s icons, then part of this involves reflecting the genuine pathos of God: His anger directed at sin, His grief for all those who have fallen into the grasp of sin, His love and compassion which inspired His redemptive purposes, and His joy for those who run to His arms.

Jeremy Doyle

I met Jeremy Doyle when I made the journey out West to California State University in Bakersfield on a small wrestling scholarship. He was a sophomore from San Diego who loved wrestling and wanted to continue competing.

Jeremy wasn’t highly recruited. There were no state titles to his name, nothing of particular note that would have colleges pressing for his commitment to their program. So, his decision to continue wrestling in college wasn’t necessarily bolstered by great success during his high school career. His decision was the product of a sincere passion for the sport and a desire to forge onward into the future as a competitor – a future that, through hard work and determination, might deliver success at the college level.

I had never met anyone like Jeremy. He had a captivating personality alongside a strong and resolute focus. He was the type of person who made you better just by being around him, no matter the context.

Jeremy was one of the hardest workers in the wrestling room. He never took a half-hearted approach to his training, and he pushed those who appeared to be lacking in effort. He wasn’t in the starting lineup, but he trained like a leader who was carrying his team toward victory. And yet, at the same time, Jeremy was also full of joy – always smiling, always laughing. He seemed to live as if each day was a gift.

Jeremy and I connected right away; which was good, because I was worried about life on my own for the first time, especially as a young man of faith who needed some guidance and direction. And Jeremy wasn’t shy from expressing his love for Jesus from the moment I met him. He immediately told me about a weekly wrestling team Bible study that he and his roommates held at their house. And when I shared that I played the guitar and could sing, Jeremy propelled me into leading worship to open up each Bible study session.

He had a tenacious approach to his faith. When he wasn’t wrestling or studying, he put his time and energy toward something else of meaning. And from this emerged a heart of service. Jeremy was a volunteer with Young Life – a nationwide Christian ministry that also had influence in the Bakersfield area. The main focus of this particular ministry was a middle school in Bakersfield that included kids who – many of them – didn’t have the greatest home situation or positive influence in their lives. The leaders of the Young Life group would reach out to the kids during the week – have lunch with them at school, or play with them during recess – and each week, the kids were invited to Young Life for an evening of fun activities and a little message of faith.

One day, after wrestling practice, Jeremy asked if I would be interested in grabbing my guitar and attending his Young Life volunteer meeting in order to lead the group through a time of worship. I would do anything for Jeremy; so, I agreed. That evening, with guitar in hand, I joined Jeremy at the Young Life meeting.

When the meeting ended, and after I led the group through a few songs, I realized that Jeremy had volunteered me to be a part of Young Life. While I was initially caught off guard, I nonetheless went along with it. If anything, it would be an opportunity to spend more time with Jeremy.

So, every week I volunteered with Jeremy at Young Life. And each week I saw more of Jeremy’s genuine heart. He really cared about these kids; and he was great with them. He made them feel valuable; he made them feel special. He made them feel like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. And as I personally got to know the kids who came each week, I realized just how important this time was. These kids needed this time. Maybe the little messages of Jesus and His Church fell on deaf years; but at the very least, they would associate their time at Young Life each week with security, fun, love and care. And perhaps this association, and the little seeds of faith that were planted, would eventually take root later in life.

This time each week with Jeremy meant that I was able to enjoy late night drives with him on our way home – listening to music under the Bakersfield night sky, or engaging in a conversation about God that would send both of our minds in a whirlwind of wonder. And one night I was feeling a bit perplexed by Jeremy’s constant positivity and proactive drive to serve others. I honestly didn’t understand where it came from. At the time, I was struggling to keep up with school and wrestling, as well as finding it hard to sustain any real personal drive of my own. In short, I was exhausted. So, I asked Jeremy, “Why are you so happy all the time? And where do you find the energy to do everything you do?”

Without a hint of pause, Jeremy proceeded to tell me that he believed it his duty to reflect the heart of God. He said that, if God loved him so much that He died on the cross, then that’s some intense love. He said that the Bible says God longs for all to come to Him, and grieves for those who don’t. And if God grieves for those who have yet to experience His love, then he shares in that grief. He said that, in feeling the genuine love of God, he can’t help but be moved to action. And he didn’t find this to be some sort of intrusive obligation, either. Instead, it was something that he wanted to do. “Plus,” Jeremy said, “God is an awesome God! I know He’s awesome…why wouldn’t I want others to know how awesome He is?”

Jeremy’s response was good enough for me. After all, I knew he really meant it. I could see it. I saw it every time I was around him. Jeremy was a man after God’s own heart.

The heart of God

When we talk about the pathos of God, what we’re really talking about is the heart of God. And Jeremy showed me what it’s like to be in tune with and inspired-to-action by the heart of God. It’s not something forced; it just flows like an outpouring of something that already exists inside.

As God’s icons, this must be true of us. Maybe it takes time for it to reflect a natural outpouring of our lives. But it should at least be our personal initiative to be in tune with and inspired-to-action by the heart of God.

(The above is a sample from a chapter in Icon: The Value of Faith and Wrestling. To read the rest of the chapter, check out the book)

Michael Fessler is a writer, speaker, and author of the bestsellers Faith and Wrestling and The Wrestler.

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Strength in Weakness: The John Kading Story

Of course, our greatest example of strength in weakness is Christ Himself. Out of His great love (and passion) for us, Christ took upon the human experience. According to Scripture, this involved taking upon Himself our weakness (Hebrews 4:15). What’s more is that He bore the burden of sin and evil on His shoulders, and carried them to the cross. And there He suffered and died. Yet, as the foundation of our faith proclaims: He rose again, bringing victory and hope to the world. How strong and mighty is He who took upon Himself our pain, our suffering, our sin! How strong is He who knew our weakness and overcame it! How mighty is He who showed strength in weakness!

John Kading

It was about four years ago when I heard the backstory to John Kading’s runner-up finish at the 1997 NCAA division 1 national tournament. I was in conversation with Jack Spates (a National Hall of Fame coach from the University of Oklahoma who spent some eighteen years leading the Sooners), and he told me about the inspiring story.

Jack recruited the two-time Illinois state champion to come wrestle for the University of Oklahoma. John Kading had always dreamed of wrestling for a top division 1 program in order to achieve his childhood dream of one day winning a national title. And Oklahoma appeared to be a good fit as Jack was brought in years earlier to help revive the Oklahoma wrestling program, and was proving successful in that endeavor.

John finished with All-American honors as a freshman and sophomore at Oklahoma, and then accomplished his childhood dream as a junior when he won the 1996 NCAA divisional 1 national title. It was during this national title run that John had adjusted his focus relative to wrestling. Up until that point, he admittedly wrestled for himself. However, he realized that wrestling for himself didn’t really align with his passion for wrestling, and it was also causing him to wrestle more conservatively. As a result, he changed his focus. Instead of wrestling for himself, he wrestled as an expression of his love for the sport, as well as his desire to deliver something exciting for his fans to watch.

So, in 1997 John returned to the national tournament as the #2 seed to defend his national title. And it’s this particular event and experience that has inspired so many. You see, John entered the tournament with a completely torn right knee, which was being held together by a large brace that went from the high part of his thigh all the way down to his calf. And his right knee wasn’t the only item on his injury list. His left knee was sprained, and he suffered a hairline fracture of his hip earlier in the season. Needless to say, John wasn’t at full strength – not by a long shot. If he had any desire to defend his title, he would have to do so despite his limitations and unfortunate weakness.

In his opening match of the tournament, John was trailing 6-4 going into the second period; and he had to take an injury timeout just seven seconds in. But he crawled back to the center of the mat and continued without so much as a thought of giving in. He surrendered an escape and had to take another injury timeout after his opponent jumped the whistle and grabbed his right knee. But John continued to fight. He narrowed the score to 7-6 with a takedown. He then took command of the match with another takedown in the third period after his opponent was penalized a point for stalling. And John wasn’t done fighting, even if victory seemed certain at this point. So, he ended the match by throwing his opponent to the mat for another takedown that brought thousands in the crowd to their feet.

The next round he pinned his opponent just under a minute in the second period. He then stepped into the quarterfinals and won a nail-biter 5-3. The win had secured his fourth All-American honors, which was already impressive given the circumstances of his physical condition. But John wasn’t just competing to secure All-American honors; he was there to win another national title.

He stepped on the mat in the semifinals with a formidable opponent from Minnesota. The match was extremely tight. While John put forth whatever offense he could, his opponent was strong and kept great position, holding the match tied at 1-1. Nonetheless, John stuck with his offense, and kept attacking as the match went into overtime. His relentless attacks finally led to a takedown, which put John back in the finals to defend his title.

The thousands in attendance, and especially the Oklahoma fans, were amazed at what John was accomplishing in the face of his limitations. There was something remarkable about it, almost as if they were watching a metaphor for life play out before their very eyes.

John’s opponent in the finals was a wrestler from Iowa: a sophomore named Lee Fullhart who upset the top-seed in the semifinals. John was just a match away from successfully defending his title.

The match went back and forth as both wrestlers exchanged attacks. Both contained strong position, and it was difficult to find an opening to score. At the end of regulation, and with the score tied, the match went into overtime. In the midst of it, John’s knee continued to writhe in pain, and he was forced to take injury time. But John wasn’t going to give up. He returned to the center of the mat and continued to attack with all his might. However, each attempt to secure the victory was successfully countered by his opponent.

Double-overtime gave the choice to Fullhart who quickly chose down. John would have to ride him out for thirty seconds in order to walk away with the win. John paced back and forth – sweating, breathing heavy as his opponent got set in position. The referee signaled him to assume his position on top. John covered. He was ready and willing to give it one last shot. The whistle blew. John held tightly to his opponent; but regardless the inspiring nature of John’s fight, he unfortunately couldn’t hold on. Fullhart escaped quickly, and the match was over.

After the loss, no one was looking upon John with disappointment or pity. The strength he exhibited, and his amazing accomplishment despite his injuries was almost unimaginable. To this day, over twenty years past the event, Oklahoma wrestling fans still talk about the strength in weakness put forth by John Kading. It reminds them that sometimes what occurs on the mat can mean more than just a wrestling match. It can invigorate people. It can cause them to examine their own life and approach as a result of the inspiration they see before them.

The power of strength in weakness

The story of John Kading’s 1997 national runner-up finish is an example of how powerful strength in weakness can be. What’s identified as weakness is not necessarily an object of pity. On the contrary, when strength is shown in weakness, all one can really see is strength. It’s powerful; it’s inspiring. It infers that we are greater than our weaknesses. We are stronger than the obstacles that seek to run us down or hold us back. Strength in weakness reveals the heart of passion. And if we are truly passionate, like John was passionate about wrestling, our willingness to exhibit strength in the midst of adversity will prevail.

Furthermore, as Christians (as God’s icons) the power of strength in weakness reminds us that true passion is unstoppable. So, when we are confronted with weakness, if Christ is our passion, we cannot fail. For as the Scriptures declare: “If God is for us, who can be against us” (Romans 8:31).

(The above is a sample from a chapter in Icon: The Value of Faith and Wrestling. To read the rest of the chapter, check out the book)

Michael Fessler is a writer, speaker, and author of the bestsellers Faith and Wrestling and The Wrestler.

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Tribune: Faith and Wrestling in a Small Town

I saw the love of Christ in Tribune, Kansas – a small town just across the Colorado border. I do some traveling and speaking during the summers at “faith and wrestling” camps that have popped up since the release of my book of the same title; and several months prior, I received a call from David Miller asking if I would be willing to make the trip out to Tribune. I happily agreed.

Due to the location of Tribune, I had to fly from Minneapolis into Denver first before jumping into a rental car and driving a few hours to the border. By the time I reached Kansas, it was already late into the night. I had to strain my eyes and focus a bit harder in order to make sure my car stayed safely on the road. With nothing but farmland to the left and right of me, there was no light shining upon my path save for the weak beam from my headlights. To make matters worse, my phone was draining of battery life, and I was using my phone for directions through the GPS navigation feature. The thought occurred to me that I may end up stranded in the middle of nowhere with no foreseeable sign of rescue. With what little battery was left, I called David in order to make sure I successfully arrived in Tribune. Thankfully, he quickly answered and guided me the rest of the way.

As I pulled in front of the house, I saw David and his son sitting on the front porch. I stepped out of the car – tired and grasping for whatever energy I could find to offer a suitable greeting. But my effort was pathetic, to say the least. David welcomed me with a smile, and brought me inside the house to meet the rest of the family. As I met his family, I apologized for my zombie-like state and promised to be more energetic the next morning.

David led me to where I’d be staying, which was a house just a little way down the road. It was so dark, and I was so tired, that I didn’t really have a chance to survey the town. David brought me inside and gave me a quick tour of the place.

Before leaving and allowing me the opportunity to sleep the night away, he let me know that plans had changed slightly for the morning. Unfortunately, a young man in town had recently passed away in a terrible car accident, and the funeral was tomorrow. So the wrestling camp would start later in the afternoon. “You obviously don’t need to attend, you can just hang out here in the morning,” he said. “But I’ll be at the funeral, and you’re welcome to meet me there if you want.” He said this while pointing out the window toward the small church where the funeral service would be held. I told him I would be there.

After he left, I wasted no time in climbing into bed and falling fast asleep.

I woke up the next morning to the sound of birds chirping, and the bright sunlight shining through the window above my bed. I looked at the clock and noticed that I still had time to get ready and head over to the church. But before getting ready, I stepped out the front door in order to take a gander at the town for the first time. It truly was a “small” town. Everything seemed to be walking distance, as if having a car was really of no importance unless you had to leave town for some reason. I imagined a place like this had a wonderful and rich history. As I stood there, caught in a brief state of thought, a giant bird flew right by my head, scaring the living daylights out of me! I later discovered that it was a turkey vulture. Not desiring a run-in with another turkey vulture or perhaps one of its massive friends, I quickly went back inside, got dressed, and walked over to the church.

Admittedly, going to a funeral wasn’t exactly how I envisioned spending the first part of my trip. But something in me prompted that I should go.

I sat in a pew by myself. The sadness of the event pervaded the room. As the service started, I realized that the young man who passed away was my age. What’s more is that he was the father to two young girls. David came in and sat next to me. As he did so, one of the daughters walked up front to provide some words of remembrance of her father. But about halfway through she had to stop and sit back down. The tears wouldn’t stop, and communicating any further became impossible. We all understood; and I couldn’t help but think about my little ones at home. The heaviness on my heart was unbearable. Even though I didn’t know the man, a tear trickled down my cheek.

When the service ended, I helped David and his family, along with the pastor and his family, serve a meal to those grieving in attendance. I realized just how much David and his family were involved in their church as well as their community. It was a beautiful thing. There wasn’t a hint of unwanted obligation expressed. Both families revealed a sincere love and passion to serve others, like it was natural to them.

After the funeral, David gave me a tour of the town while riding in his truck, along with his sons and the pastor in the backseat. He gave me a brief history of Tribune – pointing at various things along the way and sharing stories that have made the town what it is today. I found myself intrigued by it all. We then grabbed our wrestling gear and headed over to the high school to start the wrestling camp.

It was a small camp in terms of attendance; but I didn’t much care. The young wrestlers were attentive to every word of instruction as I taught a series of wrestling technique. Afterwards, I had them take a seat on the mat, and I shared my heart and passion for the sport alongside my heart and passion for Christ within it.

As we closed up the camp in the evening, David thanked me and profusely apologized for the small attendance despite my consistent response that an apology was absolutely unnecessary. He shared more of his heart to me – not just for wrestling but for his town. He told me that the wrestling program had been cut years ago and had only recently been reinstated. He believed the sport to carry a wealth of significance; that wrestling was a way for him to more easily engage others, especially the younger people in his community, to impact their lives, and to love them as Christ loves the Church. However, he felt that perhaps he was alone in the fight to help wrestling survive in Tribune. There was a deep sadness in his eyes when he communicated the thought of a potential folding of the program again in the future. The sincerity was so real…and quite frankly, powerful.

David and his family hosted a special dinner for all those in attendance at the camp, followed by a bonfire in the backyard. And the more I talked with the people who called Tribune home, the more I found myself overwhelmed by their love, kindness, and overt authenticity. I’ve met some great people in my life; but there was something incredible about the people of Tribune that had me dumbfounded.

I was scheduled to speak at the church the next morning: a sermon based off of fragments of my book. As I walked to the church, and as I continued to look around, I noticed something fascinating: that is, for a small town, there were churches everywhere! A couple thoughts immediately came to mind: (1) where were all the people coming from who attended these churches[?], and (2) these people must really love Jesus!

I gave my sermon and received countless hugs and handshakes from the wonderful people in the church after the service, thanking me for being there and for my message.

I had a long drive ahead of me back to Denver in order to catch my flight home to Minnesota. But before leaving, David and his family wanted to take me out to lunch along with the pastor and his family. The closest “larger” town was Goodland, which was about forty-five minutes to an hour away. So we drove to Goodland, in caravan-like fashion, in order to enjoy a meal at Steak and Shake – nothing fancy, but every bit of delicious.

Before I left, the pastor handed me an envelope with a check inside, and David walked me to the car. He thanked me, paid me for my part in the wrestling camp, and again started right into profusely apologizing for the small attendance. I stopped him. I told him that there was no need to apologize, that I would do it all over again, that I could see his love for our great sport, and that his heart for Christ was incredible. “If anything,” I said, “I should be thanking you.”

I think he appreciated my response, because we hugged like men.

David made his way back inside the restaurant, and I hopped inside the rental car, ready to make the drive back to Denver. But before starting the car, I opened the envelope the pastor handed me earlier. And as I did so, I was immediately overwhelmed with gratitude. The check was written for twice the amount I asked for. Just another testament to the kind of people I had been blessed to be around that weekend.

I started the car and made the long journey home…

____

About a month later, I received an unexpected package in the mail. It was from David. I opened it up and found a letter, along with a few items. The letter thanked me again for spending time in Tribune, and then went on to explain the items gifted in the box: a small travel kit for future trips to wrestling camps and speaking engagements, a bible to bring along which had the words “Faith and Wrestling” engraved at the bottom, and a Tribune onesie for my daughter whose birth was fast approaching.

I immediately called David and thanked him. He of course expressed genuine kindness in return – something I have discovered is simply a true reflection of the man he is. In some ways, I envy him. This farmer from Kansas (I believe) more effectively shares the heart of Christ than I do. All the theology I’ve gathered, and all the books I’ve written, simply don’t hold the same power.

I saw the love of Christ in Tribune, Kansas…and it was remarkable!

Michael Fessler is a writer, speaker, and author of the bestsellers Faith and Wrestling and The Wrestler.

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Worship vs Personal Glory

One of the great longings of the heart is to worship. And within this longing is the center of our role as God’s icons. In other words, our created tendency toward worship serves as our life’s compass.

Worship has been defined by God as something that must be directed toward Him alone. Yet within this longing we are constantly tugged and pulled in different directions…directions that clearly contradict the essence of worship. Instead of directing our worship toward God, the tugs and pulls we succumb to have us chasing whims of personal glory. In the athletic world this is more noticeably the case. Many wrestlers, for instance, can’t help but find themselves chasing personal glory via accolades; or their devotion becomes worship of the sport itself as opposed to worship toward the God who provided them the ability to step on the mat in the first place.

Remember that icons point in the direction of God. They are in contrast to idols, which merely absorb worship unto themselves. We were created to be God’s icons. And if we are not living as such, then our spiritual bent toward worship still searches for fulfillment. Hence, we begin to idolize the sport, the famed competitors of the sport, or even ourselves as we strive for greatness.

Jesus, as the face of the Creator, was very much aware of this bent within the human spirit. That is why He said worship must not only be in spirit, but also in truth. Worship alone cannot justify itself. It needs the constraints of truth; and that truth is the person and character of God.

The great Archbishop William Temple described worship as “The submission of all of our nature to God…the quickening of conscience by His holiness, nourishment of mind by His truth, purifying of imagination by His beauty, opening of the heart to His love, and submission of will to His purpose. All this gathered up in adoration is the greatest of all expressions of which we are capable.” This is worship. And it is accomplished in the athletic arena as much as it is within the doors of a church.

The main point of emphasis is this: the thirst for worship is not so much a religious thing as it is a human thing. It pervades time, context, and culture. It is inextricably found among the young and the old, the educated and the uneducated, the athletic and the unathletic. Therefore, the issue is not related to its existence but to its orientation. Just like a mirror reflects the light of the sun, so are we to reflect the glorious light of God.

This isn’t a momentary adjustment, either. Correctly orienting our worship toward God is a daily task; because the fight within the human self to absorb worship or to find other sources of worship is constant. It’s a part of our sinful nature. A person who makes an intellectual decision that God does not exist, or that God will not receive attention from them, cannot terminate their bent toward worship. It’s a part of them. So if God is not the focus of their worship, then something else will be, even if it’s themselves. And while this is true for anyone, it’s sometimes easier to identify in the athletic arena. Wrestlers – especially when successful – often have a hard time with this. They’re ambitious, self-motivated, and the sport is powerfully individual at its core. So it’s a struggle in its own to dismiss the fleeting pleasure of personal glory. And even though the pleasure (or fulfillment) never fully satisfies, it nevertheless caresses the wrestler just enough for them to hunger for more. And that’s what they’re ultimately left with: hunger…insatiable hunger. It’s insatiable because such hunger can only find satisfaction when it is consumed by the glory of God. Simply put, worship in any direction apart from God leaves us deprived and wanting. Popular theologian, Ravi Zacharias, said it best: “The world of personal glory moves from triumph to emptiness because it can never deliver fulfillment of the spirit. We refuse to admit that the sheer winning of accolades cannot deliver what we say it will.”

In addition to the obvious struggle of absorbing worship or personal glory is the aforementioned tendency to position our worship toward other things. This has always been a struggle in tandem with personal glory. However, it seems to be more prominent in today’s highly advanced and technological world. We have so much at our disposal, and even more inundated via television and internet. In short, the distractions and appeals for our attention are plenty. If we don’t get a handle on them, we will find ourselves lost. Sometimes we have to fight through the clutter in order to reposition our lives and our worship toward the Creator.

Thankfully, we’re not alone; for while God is the intended source of our worship, He is also the guide. He is with us every step of the way, persistently working on our hearts and minds to stay the course, to keep our eyes set on Him. His prevenient grace draws us forward.

(The above is a sample from a chapter in Icon: The Value of Faith and Wrestling. To read the rest of the chapter, check out the book)

Michael Fessler is a writer, speaker, and author of the bestsellers Faith and Wrestling and The Wrestler.

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Spiritual Fatigue

I became a Christian at the age of six, which was around the same time I first stepped foot on a wrestling mat. So it’s fair to say that wrestling has been a part of my life for as long as my faith has been. Though, of course, while my journey as a competitor in the sport ceased in my young twenties, my faith journey continued.

A few years ago, when I was preparing the marketing strategy for the first edition of Faith and Wrestling, I decided to put together a promotional video. This video required me to put on my wrestling shoes and go toe-to-toe with four-time Division I All-American and national champion, Jayson Ness: a wrestling marvel (him) versus a wrestling dropout (me). As you read earlier, his story is included in this book. He wanted to be a part of promoting it, and agreed to help in the form of pummeling me in front of a camera.

A couple weeks before shooting the video, I grew a bit concerned about walking into a wrestling encounter with Jayson as my first experience back on the mat. So, thinking it would help, I decided to try and get the “rust” out by joining a wrestling practice at my high school alma mater: Apple Valley. Perhaps rolling on the mat with some high school kids would be a good warm-up to my encounter with Jayson (or so I thought). To my surprise, “who” I was wrestling didn’t matter all that much. Within minutes of the practice my body began to feel the incredible aches and pains of fatigue. I remembered the hard way that wrestling forces you to use muscles you didn’t know you had. And when muscles go a long period of time with no use, they grow tired rather quickly. The truth is that it was embarrassing. The truth is that I was having difficulty standing, let alone successfully exerting my will upon my high school opponents. Sure, my brief college wrestling experience helped me overcome them and maintain control; but in order to do so I had to move past fatigue, and stare straight into the eyes of death. I obviously wasn’t dying in the literal sense of the word, but it was enough for me to feel as if my lungs would collapse and my heart would stop beating at any second. Nonetheless, I survived. But the experience, on a personal level, was debilitating.

When I consider this, I can’t help but see the fatigue I experienced in the wrestling room as a metaphor for the fatigue experienced within the subject of faith. Whether a new Christian, or someone returning to the faith after a leave of absence, people develop spiritual fatigue. I think a part of this has to do with a misplacement of focus, or a misunderstanding or forgetfulness of the message that awakened their spirit to faith in the first place. Much of the time, there is a clear understanding of the relational composition. That is, most Christians seem to have a grasp of where they stand as God’s creation. They recognize that God is Creator, and that through their embrace of Jesus the relational gap between them and God is mediated and overcome. What they might not understand, however, is what to do after this submission and relational embrace. As a result, many Christians engage in a mission of moral fortitude in order to prove their faith to be authentic. And the reality is that this ends up breeding religious legalism rather than a life of grace. In other words, rather than a purpose-driven life aided by a response to God’s unmerited grace, many Christians pursue a purpose-driven life aided by their own efforts of achieving moral stature. Again, it’s as if they have something to prove, despite the fact that the Christian faith was never founded on people’s ability to prove themselves. It has always been founded on the belief that the Christian life is one lived in grateful response to God’s salvific grace. In other words, the “good” that works itself out in the Christian’s life is simply that – an outworking of God’s grace. It’s a product of His work in people’s lives, not a product of human-inspired effort.

But, again, it’s not just a matter of misplaced focus or understanding. It’s what happens as a result of spiritual fatigue. As briefly mentioned in a previous chapter, religious legalism is a tiresome endeavor. It’s a mission that is both misguided and unsustainable. Just as I grew physically tired on the wrestling mat, so do Christians of this sort grow tired mentally and spiritually. And just as I wanted to give up, so do Christians of this sort want to give up in terms of their faith.

The idea, instead, should be to stay the course, to allow their faith to become that which determines their daily activity, to reach a spiritual level at which they can fight through moments of fatigue. And how? By doing what has been implored throughout my writing: practice, train. That is, consistently practicing via individual connection to scripture, prayer, and Christian community. This practice does not promise an elimination of fatigue altogether, but it does promise to strengthen the individual in order to help him or her through the fatigue. Just as consistent practice in the wrestling room keeps the athlete in physical shape to combat their opponents, so does consistent practice in the faith keep the Christian in spiritual shape to overcome the hardships of life that will inevitably confront them.

With that said, I think there is more to be discussed relative to the other side of this: the wrestling side. The fatigue on the wrestling side of things involves more than just the physical. For instance, the mental aspect of things can be just as fatiguing. Certain perspectives or approaches can drain a competitor….

(The above is a sample from a chapter in Faith and Wrestling/2nd Edition. To read the rest of the chapter, check out the book)

Michael Fessler is a writer, speaker, and the author of Faith and Wrestling, They’re Just Not Interested, and The Wrestler.

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BEFORE I WROTE A BOOK, I WAS IN A BOOK

In 2007, journalist and author Mark Kreidler published a book titled Four Days to Glory: Wrestling with the Soul of the American Heartland. It followed the life of two senior high school wrestlers – Dan LeClere and Jay Borschel – in their quest for an elusive fourth state title in Iowa. One emphasis in the book was to deliver a behind-the-scenes look into the lives of these two young men in the midst of their pursuit of wrestling glory. In this involved revealing a few vulnerable aspects. For example, alongside some difficult family dynamics and personal struggles, LeClere repeatedly discussed his frustration with the one loss of his high school career in which he was unable to experience a sense of redemption. He only had two blemishes on his record: one was from a fellow Iowa wrestler whom he ended up defeating later on in the state tournament his freshman year, and the second was to a Minnesota wrestler he lost to as a junior at an Iowa tournament which hosted the Minnesota team. What bothered LeClere was not just the loss itself; it was the fact that he never had an opportunity for payback. He couldn’t even remember the competitor’s name, let alone track him down for a rematch. As a result, the Minnesota wrestler was like a mysterious bad dream which served no other purpose than to haunt him.

As it turns out, the Minnesota wrestler was me. I was a senior at Apple Valley High School, and my team made the trip down to the Don Bosco duals for some quality competition outside the state. When I stepped on the mat with LeClere, I had no clue who he was. It wasn’t until I walked off the mat after scoring the winning takedown in overtime that my coaches explained to me who it was I had defeated.

Throughout the book, LeClere repeatedly returned to the pain and frustration in losing to the Minnesota wrestler. And as I read this, I felt an odd sense of identity. It’s strange enough to read a book in which you’re a part of the story. It’s even more so when your name and overall identity are hidden. In the book, I was recognized by a vague description: “the Minnesota wrestler.” No name; just a shadowy figure who apparently delivered a sense of anguish in the life of another.

The Book In Which All Of Us Are A Part Of The Story

Believe it or not, all of us are a part of a story; but not all of us have read the book or have necessarily seen ourselves in it. The Bible is not simply a canon of ancient, religious literature or a book of moral law. It’s a book which contains the story of God. Yes, this story can be filled with a significant amount of peculiarity and confusion. But when the Bible is read, the reader should be drawn to it in the sense that he or she can actually see themselves in the story. In other words, they are not only immersing themselves in God’s story, but they can see that they are a part of it. For instance, in the beginning we read about the fall of Adam and Eve into the clutches of sin. What’s important is not whether or not they were in conversation with an evil, talking snake prior to their decision to sin (I personally have never encountered any talking snakes in my life). What’s important is recognizing that, early on in God’s story, humanity chose to separate themselves from relationship with Him and chose their own course in life instead. Therefore, as readers engaging this story today, we should see ourselves in the story. In other words, every single one of us have chosen to reject God, have bolstered our own authority, and pursued our own endeavors. We have all chosen self over God.

When we reach the part in the Bible when Jesus bursts onto the scene, we arrive at a crucial point in the story. We find that Jesus was God Himself. And we discover that, through His life, death and resurrection, Jesus (God), despite our rejection of Him, has invited us back into His story.  As a result, at some point we all must make a choice on account of our own chosen “fall:” will we say “yes” to God or will we say “no?” In other words, will we look upon Jesus and dismiss Him as a fool, a liar or merely a nice guy, or will we fall to our knees and embrace Him as Lord and Savior. As C.S. Lewis famously put it in his apologetic piece Mere Christianity: “You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human teacher.”

Once we have said “yes” to God, our encounter with the scriptures should be transformed in conjunction with the transformation taking place in our lives. For instance, no longer do we read the promise God makes to Abraham in the Old Testament of making him the “father of many nations” (Genesis 17:1-7) on account of his faith in God as merely a story in a very old book. Instead, we read it with ourselves inserted into the story. That is, you and I – those who have accepted God’s invitation through Jesus – see that we are a part of this promise, this future family; we are the sons and daughters of Abraham through our faith. God is talking about us!

This Story Has a Happy Ending

Do you know the best thing about being part of God’s story? It’s the fact that there’s a happy ending. It’s the gift of assurance that, when the story reaches its end, God wins (1 Corinthians 15:57). In other words, even though the story is riddled with pain and suffering, we are given the story’s ending before we get there…and it’s a good one! And this is because Jesus alone took upon Himself the entirety of evil and suffering on the cross, and defeated it in the power of the resurrection (Colossians 2:13-15). So even though evil still has a voice in the world today, when Jesus returns, He will shut the mouth of evil; and those who called on His name will be ushered in to His perfect goodness and love.

I became an author when I started writing and publishing my books. But before I wrote a book, I was in a book…and so were you.

Michael Fessler is a writer, speaker, and the author of Faith and Wrestling, They’re Just Not Interested, and The Wrestler.

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RELATIONSHIP WITH GOD: WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUT?

I’m pretty sentimental when it comes to my Christian faith. Part of the reason for this involves my life experience as well as my desire and effort to grow deeper in relationship with Jesus. I totally understand how strange this might sound to some – that is, growing deeper in relationship with a man who lived over two thousand years ago – but if one believes in what the scriptures say regarding Jesus Christ, he or she must come to grips with the understanding that Jesus is believed to be very much alive and is experienced through the power of the Holy Spirit. In other words, he or she can still “experience” Jesus despite Him not physically residing next to him or her. (Okay, even that sounds strange. But explaining such a thing is quite difficult, even though it’s very real for millions of people around the world – myself included).

I learned a long time ago that you should be careful what you ask God for; because the truth is that He’s dynamic and relational. He is a God who responds, and sometimes His response is overwhelming. The most powerful experience I ever had with God took place when I was about twenty-one years old. I was at church on a Sunday evening and participating in the routine of musical worship. I don’t know why, but for some reason a thought entered my mind: I want to experience the love Christ had for us while He was dying on the cross. So quietly to myself I said, “God, let me experience a glimpse of your love for us.” I had no clue what I was in for. Immediately, I became overwhelmed with love. The feeling was so incredible that I couldn’t contain it. So I cried. I cried so hard that my body became weak, and I sat down and buried my face in my hands.

Trying to describe this love is impossible, for it wasn’t like anything I had felt before. It wasn’t like the flutters of romantic love. It wasn’t like the love of a friend or brother. It wasn’t even like the love of a parent toward a child. All these types of love are powerful, but the love I felt in that moment was something far different and far more encompassing.

(As an embarrassing side note, I was sitting next to a girl who I had a crush on. I was planning on asking her out later that week, but didn’t exactly look like the perfect catch as a pathetic, sobbing train wreck. Oh well…)

The Consequence of Relationship

We often talk about being in a “relationship” with God through Jesus Christ. But there appear to be two camps that many Christians find themselves in. One camp fails to recognize the consequence of proclaiming a relationship with God, and the other takes things a little too far (at least in my opinion). I think the majority of Christians find themselves in the first camp; that is, they take their faith seriously but haven’t really considered the consequence of proclaiming a relationship with God. And so those in this camp, while they champion moral integrity, for the most part they go on living their life unaffected by relationship with God. In other words, there isn’t a sense of experiencing this relationship. They don’t seek God for guidance on a regular basis, or listen to what message or response He might place on their heart, wrestle with it, and act accordingly. Instead, the situation becomes more “deistic”. That is, these Christians view Jesus (God) as a moral example alongside the belief of Him as the source of their salvation. So, as it pertains to this life, and since their salvation is believed to be secure, all that’s left is to try and live a life of moral fortitude. As a result, they go about their life as usual. They make plans and goals, and they do so with their self as their guide. They may attribute something good that takes place in their life’s plan as God’s doing, but in reality, they never approached God with their plans and goals in the first place! They’re merely making God fit into their blueprint however they see fit.

The other camp arguably takes the notion of relationship a little too far. We sometimes label these Christians as the “charismatic kooks”. They take the consequence of relationship with God seriously, but they seem to go beyond the bounds of it. We see these Christians dancing and partying like it’s 1999 (anybody catch the song reference?). Not only do they live their life in constant communication with God (which is good!) but they start speaking in tongues like the gift is some sort of on/off switch rather than something truly God inspired. They start casting out demons, believe they have been given the power of healing, gain financial prosperity, and so forth. Do I believe that some of these crazy things are possible? Sure. But those in this camp start treating such things as resources of individual power, in that the purpose and focus of genuine discipleship is lost. Rather than Jesus as the core purpose and focus, growing in relationship with Him, being transformed by Him and inviting others to be transformed by Him, the whole thing turns into a magic show.

The True Consequence

The true consequence of relationship with God through Jesus Christ (as I see it) involves communication, openness to knowing Him more, and being transformed by Him…that’s it. And while I say “that’s it”, in actuality it’s more than enough! Rather than being indifferent to the consequence of relationship, or overly charismatic, we need to ask ourselves, “What is the goal?” The appropriate answer would seem to be to know Him more and be transformed by Him. It’s not about us; it’s about Him. It’s about God and what He is doing in our lives as well as the direction in which He is taking His creation.

The story I shared of my experience with God was not founded on any belief that I was gaining some sort of spiritual or material benefit. It was founded on the mere pursuit of wanting to know God more and experience a glimpse of His overwhelming love. And believe me, it was more than enough!

Michael Fessler is a writer, speaker, and the author of Faith and Wrestling, They’re Just Not Interested, and The Wrestler.

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DANCING IN GOD’S PRESENCE

One thing (out of several) that I adore about my daughter, Delaney, is her free-spirited dancing. She loves to dance. If we’re at a wedding reception, and there’s dancing, you better believe that she will dance until she simply can’t anymore. The only thing that successfully ends her dancing streak is when fatigue settles in, and her mind and body finally shut down. In fact, there was one occasion in which I found Delaney literally sleeping on the dance floor toward the end of the night. (She takes seriously the notion of “dance till you drop”).

Years ago, I was going through a difficult time and found an escape from the troubles of life within the confines of my church. Each day was a struggle; but I felt refreshed and at home when I walked into church on Sundays, engaged in worship, and listened to a meaningful sermon. However, even though I felt a sense of internal, spiritual refreshment, outside I probably still looked broken. It was during this time that my daughter showed me something very important, even if I was initially uncomfortable.

In addition to Delaney’s love of dancing is her love of music (they sort of go hand-in-hand); and she wanted to be present whenever and wherever there was live music. So I made it a routine to have Delaney join me during the musical-worship portion of the service before sending her off with the other children for their own service.

One of the first times I brought Delaney with me, she completely caught me off guard. As the music was playing, she looked up at me with those beautiful blue eyes and asked, “Daddy, will you dance with me?”

I hesitated for a moment. I had grown up in a church where people danced up and down the aisles, and I thought it was weird. But something within my soul prompted me to accept Delaney’s request. So I somewhat reluctantly took her by the hand and we made our way to the aisle. We linked our hands together, and danced as the music filled the room. The more we danced, the less uncomfortable I felt. Instead of weird, it felt right. It felt perfect.

As we continued to dance, another little girl came out from a row in front of us and started to dance as well. Delaney stopped and tugged on my shirt. I knelt down and she whispered in my ear, “Daddy, I’m going to dance with that girl over there.”

I watched Delaney approach the girl, and they started dancing together – careless of their surroundings and fully embracing the moment. The prompting that enabled me to dance with Delaney came with a subtle voice this time: “This is how it should be.” When I heard this, and as I continued watching the girls dance, I tear slowly trickled down my cheek. I wiped the tear away, and as soon as I did, I noticed something remarkable: Everyone in the room, with huge smiles on their faces, was watching them. In that moment I wondered: Did they hear it, too? And then I heard it again, “This is how it should be…When you’re with me, this is how it should be.”

“This is how it should be.”

I don’t have much to say beyond the story I shared. I think the beauty within it speaks for itself. However, I will say that I’m beginning to understand more and more Jesus’ words of embracing God and His kingdom as a child (Matthew 18:3; Mark 10:15; Luke 18:17). It’s not about forgoing maturity or intellectual progress. It’s not about dismissing reality. It’s not about ignoring the daily or circumstantial struggles of life. It’s about casting aside the worries that have been buried within our being. It’s about releasing what has become so important to us – that is, the element of control. It’s about releasing the weight of our struggles, even if it’s only for a brief moment. It’s about experiencing the joy that was brought to us in the life of Jesus and what He accomplished. This is how it should be.

Dancing in the middle of a worship service might seem irrational, or just flat out weird. And maybe it is. But then again we have to ask ourselves: Why? Perhaps we’re worried about our image; we’re worried about what others might think of us. We’re concerned that others might judge us and label us a charismatic kook. Or perhaps we just don’t feel like it. That is, maybe life itself is really dragging us down to the point that it’s a struggle to just show up at church. (These are my issues and concerns, at least).

I’m not saying that I have since become a person who freely starts dancing in church. The truth is that I’m not. But I think the act of responding (in that moment) to what may have been God’s prompting is at the heart of the matter. Maybe next time He won’t prompt me to dance, maybe it will be something else. But whatever it may be, I’m sure it will involve stepping out of my comfort zone and embracing the task with the heart of a child.

And finally, I think the joy of dancing as a child tells us something as well. It wasn’t just the act of responding to dance in church with Delaney. It was the context of our dancing. We were dancing in church. We were dancing to songs of worship. We were dancing in God’s presence. There should be a sense of joy in celebrating His presence…like the free-spirited dancing of a child.

Michael Fessler is a writer, speaker, and the author of Faith and Wrestling, They’re Just Not Interested, and The Wrestler.

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THE PROBLEM OF GOOD

The greatest problem for Christianity has been regarded as the “Problem of Evil (or Suffering).” That is, if an all-loving God exists, why is there so much evil… or why is there evil at all? In fact, one of the leading skeptics today, Bart Ehrman, wrote a book in 2009 titled God’s Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question – Why We Suffer. In this book, Ehrman not only suggests that the problem of evil is the greatest obstacle to Christianity, but he also admits in the book’s opening chapter that this very problem was the catalyst that encouraged his own exit from the faith.

Many answers have been offered – both theological and philosophical – but the most intellectual and poignant answers available over the centuries have not been able to sufficiently answer the question with any certainty. Part of the reason for this is that evil and its development of pain and suffering is not an intellectual problem to solve. Of course there is an intellectual component, but by and large, the problem is existential and deeply personal. In other words, pain and suffering is something we see, and even more importantly, it’s something we feel. Therefore, all the brilliant intellectual answers in the world are not going to heal our pain. Even if we discover a theological or philosophical answer that eases our mind, we are nonetheless stuck with the reality of our pain and anguish. We still feel it.

Nevertheless, it has occurred to me: If the presence of evil and suffering is apparently a Christian problem, isn’t the presence of good a problem for the skeptic? That is, isn’t there a “problem of good” as much as there is a “problem of evil?” It seems to me, it is far easier to deliver reasonable answers as to why evil exists than it is to why good exists. I mean, after all, if the God of the Christian type does not exist, and human beings are simply the product of unguided, biological evolution, then where did goodness come from? And furthermore, how did we come to be judges of goodness? Goodness is not a product of biology. It’s not a chemical or tissue that can be tested.

Answers have been provided such as the idea that goodness and morality developed on account of the evolution of community. In other words, human beings, through trial and error as well as the implementation of “common sense,” eventually discovered that adhering to qualities of goodness was far more beneficial to the survival of their community than adhering to its opposite. But when we really consider such a thing, we realize that answers like this don’t suffice at all. Not only are biological and sociological answers given for something that is metaphysical (goodness), but we reach a similar issue as that of the problem of evil. And that is, the problem of goodness is existential and deeply personal – we feel goodness. Just as evil causes us to feel a certain way and has the potential to destroy us from the inside out, good causes us to feel a certain way as well and has the potential to invigorate us from the inside out.

What’s more is that we have developed into “judges” of goodness, on both a personal and a public level. In other words, we declare things to be good for our society and culture, and we also go through the process of discerning goodness within our own hearts and minds – a place where no one else can view the content of such judgment. Where does this come from? And who’s to say that the good decision made was really even “good” at all?

So perhaps the skeptic should be asking a different question. Instead of championing the criticism “how can evil exist in the creation of an all-loving God,” perhaps they should be asking, “how can good exist in the same world as evil?”

From the Christian perspective, we have a pretty clear understanding about where such goodness comes from. And in terms of evil and suffering, all we can confidently say is this. Jesus doesn’t give an explanation for the pain and sorrow of the world. He comes and takes the pain upon Himself. Jesus doesn’t explain why there is suffering, illness, and death in the world. He brings healing and hope. He allows evil to do its worst to Him, He exhausts it, drains its power, and emerges with new life. God, through the person of Jesus Christ, meets us in our suffering. He faced it head on in His life, experienced the weight of it on the cross, and conquered it in His resurrection. This is the God we believe in. Our belief is that, when we embrace Him, we are given the opportunity to experience, in part, the new life that He offers. And our hope is that, upon our mission in this life to bring heaven to earth, to bring God’s goodness and love to our broken world, we will transition into eternity with Him and experience the fullness of this new life. Yes, we as a community of Christian believers have (at times) been failures in our mission. Sometimes we have allowed ourselves to be blinded by other things and unfortunately contributed to some of the pain in this world. But this does not dismiss the realness and truth of the mission itself.

So to the skeptic: Go ahead…continue befuddling yourself with questions about evil. But if you really want to challenge yourself, start asking about the mystery of goodness. As for me and my fellow believers, we have a mission. We hope you join us.

Michael Fessler is a writer, speaker, and the author of Faith and Wrestling, They’re Just Not Interested, and The Wrestler.

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GOD, SAVE ME FROM MYSELF!

For years, I had admittedly struggled with grasping a clear understanding of “sin”: what it is, how it pertains to my relationship to God, what Jesus actually accomplished through His life, death and resurrection, and so forth. Like most Christians, I typically attributed sin to moral failure, as well as a chasm which separates me from relationship with God. As a result, I experienced a great deal of internal struggle. That is, with the realization that I continue to commit moral failure even as a Christian, I found myself constantly in a situation where I was down on my knees, crying out to God for Him to forgive me. And it’s not that being on my knees in a constant plea for forgiveness from God is a “bad” thing. It was that my idea of sin and its existence in my life was a little off, and was furthermore causing me to miss out on the relational potential available with God.

I remember walking into church one day with this same notion of sin and the continued struggle in my life. Oddly enough, the teaching that night involved gaining a proper biblical perspective on this very notion based off of Romans 8:1 which states, “there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus,” and even more specifically on Colossians 2:13-14, which states, “…God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the charge of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us; he has taken it away, nailed it to the cross.” The emphasis in both verses was on the word “condemnation.” The pastor was visiting the church as a guest speaker, and is a well-known theologian and scholar. I very much enjoy his work, so I was of course tuned in and listening intently.

“Look,” he said, “we have become so caught up in this idea that what Jesus did was wipe our slate clean. We view our sins as listed on this long slate, and when we invite Jesus into our lives he takes our slate filled with all our individual sins, washes them away, and then hands the clean slate back to us. And of course, we continue to sin, so we end up filling this slate back up with new sins, hand it back to Jesus, He washes it clean again, and hands it back to us. And on and on we go through this cycle. But this depiction is not biblical!”

What he was describing was exactly how I had pictured things, and his suggestion that it was “unbiblical” caught me by surprise.

“According to the scriptures, Jesus doesn’t merely wipe the slate clean; He completely removes the charges against us. In other words, your sins are still a part of you, and to some degree, will continue to be so. But by the grace of God, the charges are removed. You are no longer held in condemnation on account of them.”

What is God Saving Us From?

The life, death and resurrection of Jesus was truly a remarkable event. In fact, the event not only changes everything but is something which demands a response from anyone with a beating heart.

I mentioned in a previous write-up that the purpose of the coming of Christ was not to provide a means for escape. In other words, the Christian faith is not about “going to heaven when we die.” Instead, God, through Jesus, was inaugurating the redemption of His creation. He was reclaiming it as its rightful Lord, and He was also starting the process of renewing what He had created…starting with us. This is one of the reasons why we are referred to as “new creations” when we embrace Jesus (2 Corinthians 5:17). We are a template for the grand New Creation of the entire cosmos that will fully break through upon Jesus’ return.

Therefore, it’s important to understand that the reality of sin is not a battle of overcoming moral failings (though it remains important to live morally and is perhaps a consequence of following Jesus). The reality of sin is the ridding of the “old self” in exchange for the “new.” The old self is focused on one’s own wants, needs, and desires. It seeks satisfaction through the likes of a fallen and broken world. The new self, on the other hand, is attached to the purpose and will of God – a purpose and will that is intent on bringing His grace and love to the world…it’s others’ focused. And every time a follower of Jesus shows grace and love to another, he or she is growing and further developing into the new self that God is creating in them. What’s more is that every act of grace and love toward another is a foreshadowing of the New Creation that is to come. God is not necessarily “saving” us in the sense that He is making us moral people so that He can snatch us away into heaven when we die. He is “saving” us from ourselves as well as the direction in which we are headed. The old self leads to destruction. The new self leads to life everlasting.

Freedom “to be”

In my book Faith and Wrestling, I devote a chapter to redefining the notion of freedom as it pertains to sin. We often talk about being freed from sin.  That is, we have this picture in our heads of sin as the chains and shackles that imprison us. There is a great deal of truth in this picture. However, freedom in relation to sin is not just about being freed from its imprisonment. It’s about the freedom to be. In other words, what about when the chains and shackles come off? Do we just stand there and wait for God to take us home? Heck no! We are freed from sin, but we are also given the freedom to be the sort of people that God intended for us to be! We’re not sitting on this earth waiting for our escape to heaven; we’re free people with a purpose! We’re in the work of bringing heaven to earth (Matthew 6:10).

A very inspiring way in which to look at this is through the story of Jesus as told in the Gospel of John. John inputs a beautiful theme of Jesus as the culmination of creation. You’ll notice that John’s opening lines (“In the beginning was the Word…”.) offer a re-telling of the creation story through Jesus. And in the ancient world (especially Jewish life) Sunday was the beginning of the week – a new week for new things, new possibilities, new life. Therefore, when Jesus rises on Sunday, according to John, He is a model of the “new creation,” the new human being, the new direction God is taking humanity and, eventually, all of creation. Jesus Christ is the embodiment of redeemed love, of grace, of unending beauty.

When we consider all of this, we come to find that sin is not merely a list of moral failings; it’s rejection of God’s work in redemption. So for us, it’s the missing of an opportunity (the Greek word for sin is hamartia, which means “missing the mark”). God is not inviting us to become moral people; He is inviting us to take hold of the opportunity in joining Him and the direction in which He is taking His creation.

Those who do not seize this opportunity will be left unto themselves, to complete the path they’re on, the one they have chosen, the one that will fail to experience God’s New Creation. Those who do seize this opportunity (like myself!) will undoubtedly fail along the way; but their course remains the same. Sin may still affect them but it no longer has a hold on them. They’re leaving it in the dust as they follow Jesus.

Michael Fessler is a writer, speaker, and the author of Faith and Wrestling, They’re Just Not Interested, and The Wrestler.

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