Sermon preached by Dr. John A. Huffman, Jr.
February 1, 2009
Copyright 2009, John A. Huffman, Jr.
All rights reserved

PURSUING GOD: SPIRITUAL DISCIPLINES
DESIGNED TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE
(First in a series)
1 Timothy 4:6-10

Have nothing to do with profane myths and old wives’ tales. Train yourself in godliness, for, while physical training is of some value, godliness is valuable in every way, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come.
(1 Timothy 4:7-8)

In the January 2009 issue of Christianity Today, it includes an article by Richard Foster titled “Spiritual Formation Agenda.” He opens the article with these words, “Our world today cries out for a theology of spiritual growth that has been proven to work in the midst of the harsh realities of daily life. Sadly, many have simply given up on the possibility of growth in character formation.”

He then goes on to note three ways in which well-intended people have functioned in their Christian lives. Some have exhausted themselves in church work then discovered that this did not substantially change their lives. They were just as impatient, egocentric and fearful as they were before, if not more so. Others have immersed themselves in multiple social-service projects, only to discover, after years of hard work, society remained much the same and not much had changed in the inner life, making some much worse inwardly: frustrated, angry and bitter. Others have had a practical theology that does not allow for spiritual growth. They declare that they are saved by grace and actually have become paralyzed by it. Any progress in the spiritual life smacks of “works righteousness.” Their liturgies tell them that they sin in word, thought and deed daily, so they conclude that this is their fate until they die. Heaven is the only ultimate release from this world of sin and rebellion. So, clothed in Christ’s righteousness, these well-meaning folk sit in their pews year after year without realizing any movement forward in their life with God.

Foster observes, “Finally a general cultural malaise touches us all to one extent or another. I am referring to how completely we have become accustomed to the normality of dysfunction. The constant media stream of scandals and broken lives and mayhem of every sort elicits from us hardly more than a yawn. We have come to expect little else, even from our religious leaders—perhaps especially from our religious leaders. This overall dysfunction is so pervasive in our culture that it is nearly impossible for us to have a clear vision of spiritual progress. Shining models of holiness are so rare today.”

Yet, he goes on to observe over the last 2,000 years, there has been a wonderful record of men and women who are followers of Jesus whose lives have been changed, moving from egocentric passions to selflessness and humility of heart. He describes a life of unhurried peace and power that is possible. He writes, “As apprentices of Jesus we are learning, always learning how to live well; love God well; love our spouse well; raise our children well; love our friends and neighbors—and even our enemies—well; study well; face adversity well; run our businesses and financial institutions well; form community life well; reach out to those on the margins well; and die well. . . .” What is your reaction to these comments by Foster? As you listen to them, is there something within you that says, “Yes, unfortunately, that’s the way it seems to be.”

If so, this new sermon series, “Pursuing God: Spiritual Disciplines That Make a Difference” is for you. To be honest with you, we have had our ear to the ground. The visioning process has identified, to some degree, this sense of malaise is not just present out there in the lives of many who are legitimate followers of Jesus. Some of this is right here at St. Andrew’s. Many of us are working very hard in the life of the church. Many of us have immersed ourselves in various social service projects. Many of us know that we are clothed in Christ’s righteousness. Our salvation is by grace alone. And, in the process, many of us have come to expect little else when there is much more. This much more is the “formation of the heart before God.” To use the words of Thomas Kelly, it is “a life of unhurried peace and power. It is simple. It is serene. It is amazing. It is triumphant. It is radiant. It takes no time, but it occupies all our time.”
Your leaders are aware this spiritual malaise is not something just out there in the lives of other people, in other parts of the country, in other churches, but it is something that we ourselves need to be aware of here. So we are beginning today this collaborative sermon series titled, “Pursuing God: Spiritual Disciplines That Make a Difference.” Jim Birchfield, Dennis Okholm, James Melton and I will be leading you in the weeks ahead, addressing those disciplines that do not earn salvation but lead us to a life of spiritual growth that does make a difference. We’ll be talking about pursuing God through: worship; service; prayer; silence; simplicity; submission; celebration; community; Bible study; and learning. My challenge today is to simply introduce us to the series, addressing the theme “Pursuing God: Spiritual Disciplines Designed to Make a Difference.”

As we now dig into this topic, I am aware that there is not just this general spiritual malaise in which one can find one’s self. I’m also aware that you and I are living in an era of unrelenting economic, social and political challenges that simply will not go away. You and I have the option of approaching life’s discouragements and unrelenting difficulties from one of four perspectives. Three of these, as tempting as they are and as much as we all probably find them at times irresistible, prove to be nonproductive. Only one really equips us to live both here in time and in eternity.

Option One: is that of the mutineer who waves one’s fist in the face of God, responding to life’s troubles with defiance.
Option Two: is that of the dreamer who lives with one’s eyes closed to reality, denying the very existence of troubles and, wherein they cannot be denied, naively pushes them away.
Option Three: is that of the stoic who lives life with a stiff upper lip, determined to face whatever comes with sheer, dogged, human persistence.

Each of these initial three options has its immediate payoff, but none truly equips a person both for time and eternity.
There’s a fourth option: that of the realist/idealist, the person who addresses, face-on, trouble in its cold, harsh reality but allows God to work through that difficulty if God chooses not to remove it. You see, this life doesn’t deny reality. At the same time, it does not live without hope. It is a life of spiritual transformation by the Holy Spirit of God in which you and I allow God to transform that very real trouble or set of difficulties into something that enables us to live with an eternal perspective. The challenges of our day actually become something ennobling.

The late Peter Marshall, pastor of New York Avenue Presbyterian Church and Chaplain of the United States Senate, loved to use the illustration of the oyster who, when that irritant piece of cutting sand entered into its shell, refused the seductive appeals of becoming the mutineer, the dreamer or the stoic. Instead, over a period of time, the oyster functioned as the ultimate realist/idealist. It accepted at face value the irritant and did something about it. It began to secrete a milky substance around that piece of sand that, over the years, developed into a pearl of great price.
Let me assure you that the spiritual disciplines of which we will be talking enable us as realists/idealists to handle those rugged, cutting irritants in life in a way that they are gradually reshaped by the power of God into valuable jewels, both here in time as well as also the rest of eternity.

Let me make four introductory statements.
Introductory Statement One: Discipline is not a highly appreciated word in our culture.
Many years ago, Dr. V. Raymond Edman the then president of Wheaton College, in his book titled The Disciplines of Life, wrote, “Ours is an undisciplined age. The old disciplines are breaking down. . . above all, the discipline of divine grace is derided as legalism or is entirely unknown to a generation that is largely illiterate in the Scriptures. We need a rugged strength of Christian character that can come only from discipline.”
If he could make that observation over fifty years ago, imagine what he would see now. We are living in an environment that has been shaped by decades of MTV, “Entertainment Tonight,” “Hard Copy,” and all the rest of the self-indulgent influence of a tabloid nature.

During the last two decades, the word “discipline” has not been a much appreciated word in the economic area. It used to be that, if you were going to buy a home, you had to show clearly what your assets were, what your income is; you would make a down payment and not receive the loan until it was clearly ascertained that you were clearly able, barring some major catastrophe, to be good for the loan. The lender was assuming the responsibility. But then came the idea of bundling up these loans and passing on the responsibility to others in the naive assumption everything would work out alright. We’ve all been reading horror stories of people who should never have qualified and lenders who got their commissions without any ultimate responsibility to face the music when the loan went bad. Greed, in many ways, is the opposite of discipline. Now we have a consumer economy that has ground to a halt. And how do we solve it? We solve it by the use of “stimulation.” I’m not saying that the stimulation is not needed. None of us want this situation to sort itself out by a deep depression. But, ultimately, someone’s going to have to pay the price of the stimulation. It may just be more stimulation.

Even my words of observation calling for discipline denote the tone of negativity, don’t they? It has the awesome put-down of legalism.
Introductory Statement Two: Our approach to these disciplines will be quite different from a legalistic approach.
I’m not talking about a set of rules you must obey, a grocery list of “oughts” that will inhibit.

There is a severe danger in a life lived under the schoolmaster of “oughts.” Such an approach can become cold and demanding, a set of artificial hoops through which you and I feel forced to jump. We will do everything we can to avoid such mechanical obligations. If we find ourselves forced into jumping through those hoops, we will do it with resentment.
I’m talking about a life lived in a proactive, positive way, encountering some ground rules which are designed to protect us from disaster.
Back in the mid-90s on a Sunday afternoon, a pleasure boat lit out to sea from Newport Harbor. It was a 24-foot craft with 19 people crammed onto it, looking forward to a Sunday afternoon of fishing. When they returned home that evening, one and a half miles outside of the harbor, the boat overturned. Five adults desperately clutched 13 of the 14 children, all of them hanging on to the crippled craft. After five hours of this terror, one of the fathers, against his wife’s wishes, swam less than a mile to a fishing vessel. He was convinced that they could not survive the night in the cold water. After swimming less than a mile, he reached the other boat and, within twenty minutes, the Coast Guard found the group, still holding on to the floating remains of their boat. They rescued 18 adults and children, but one little boy had drowned. The newspaper reports revealed that the boat was overloaded. From the perspective of the excited and happy families headed out to sea that Sunday afternoon, the fact was that they were free to load up the boat in total disrespect of the rules as to how many people could be on a boat that size. They didn’t want to legalistically have to hold to some arbitrary rules. But, in their ill-thought-out decision, they had sown their own seeds of the disaster that was to follow. Their lack of discipline lost the life of one child and jeopardized the lives of them all.
Today’s text reads, “Have nothing to do with profane myths and old wives’ tales. Train yourself in godliness, for, while physical training is of some value, godliness is valuable in every way, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come. The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance. For to this end we toil and struggle, because we have our hope set on the living God, who is the Savior of all people, especially of those who believe” (1 Timothy 4:7-10).
Paul is telling young Timothy that physical exercise has an important place in one’s life, but that there is a discipline of a spiritual nature that produces rich dividends of a much greater value for both this life and the life to come. I can take you to physical fitness centers throughout Orange County where people are working real hard at discipline in order to look good, but many of these people have no sense of a discipline that produces a much greater effect. Whereas our physical discipline keeps our weight in line, our muscle tone in good shape, strengthens the heart muscle in a cardiovascular way and enables us to live a higher quality life now, there are spiritual disciplines that equip us not only for this life, but also for the life to come. Our physical training is of some value. But godliness “. . . is valuable in every way, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come.” You and I have the privilege of training ourselves in godliness.

Frankly, I despise living a legalistic existence. Remember when the speed limit was 55 miles an hour, a limit that no one including the police obeyed? Late one Saturday afternoon, Anne and I were driving on the 405 Freeway to a farewell dinner for Dr. David Hubbard, who was retiring as president of Fuller Theological Seminary. The traffic was light. As I’m usually in the car alone, I took the advantage of having Anne with me and got into the “diamond lane.” What I did not realize was that driving in a white car in the diamond line with the two lanes to the right of it empty singled me out for the radar gun. Sure enough, I was pulled over, clocked at 69 miles per hour. The policeman courteously wrote up the ticket. I asked him, “How fast do you think those cars are going right now?” His response was, “That’s not the issue. You were going 14 miles above the speed limit.” So, truly humbled, ticket in hand, I got back on the freeway. This time, I stayed in the far right lane going 55 miles per hour, only to be harangued by drivers honking their horns and making obscene gestures at me until finally I got with the flow of traffic in that right lane, which I clocked was averaging 72 miles per hour. The normal flow of traffic was 3 miles an hour over the speed for which I had just received my ticket.
At the same time, you know and I know that driving too fast puts one’s life at risk.

One more person than the legal limit onboard that boat probably wouldn’t have tipped it over. But there was a limit for a reason.
The difference between legalism and discipline is somewhat in that relativistic area we might label “the safety margin area.” At some point, there is a speed that is unsafe, that jeopardizes your life and the lives of others. At some point, there is a load factor that jeopardizes the boat. At some point, there is a spiritual liberty that leads to a kind of malaise and which can ultimately lead to personal anarchy, destabilization and spiritual shipwreck.
That’s why we are challenged to train ourselves to be godly, to discipline ourselves for the purpose of godliness.
Introductory Statement Three: There are disciplines that are designed to make a positive difference.

These disciplines about which we are going to talk encourage spirituality. No, your failure to do some of them does not remove your salvation from you. Your steady daily practicing of some of these disciplines does not make you a Christian.

Please hear me. I must underline these truths. Not one of these or all of these items, if done, will get you into heaven. None of them or all of them, if not done, will keep you from it.
See these disciplines as proactive vehicles to spiritual life, not cold, legalistic hoops through which you must jump.
Donald S. Whitney, in his book titled Spiritual Disciplines For the Christian Life, describes a little six-year-old fellow by the name of Kevin whose parents have enrolled him in music lessons. Every afternoon after school, he sits in the living room reluctantly strumming away on his guitar, trying to play “Home on the Range” while, at the same time, he was watching his buddies play baseball in the park across the street. This is discipline without direction. It’s drudgery.
Now, suppose that Kevin is visited by an angel one afternoon during guitar practice. In a vision, he is lifted up and taken to Carnegie Hall in New York City. He is shown a guitar virtuoso giving a concert. Usually bored by classical music, Kevin is astonished by what he sees and hears. The musician’s fingers dance excitedly on the strings with fluidity and grace. Kevin thinks of how stupid and clunky his hands feel when they halt and stumble over the chords. This virtuoso blends clean, soaring notes into a musical aroma that wafts from his guitar. Kevin remembers toneless, irritating discord that comes stumbling out of his. He is enchanted. He has never seen, heard or imagined anyone who could play the guitar like this.

The vision vanishes, and there is the angel standing in front of Kevin in his living room. “Kevin,” says the angel, “The wonderful musician you saw is you in a few years.” Then pointing at the guitar, the angel declares, “But you must practice!”

Suddenly, the angel disappears, and Kevin finds himself alone with his guitar. What do you think his attitude toward practice will be now? As long as he remembers what he is going to become, Kevin’s discipline will have a direction, a goal, that will put him into the future. Yes, effort will be involved. Even a continuing degree of drudgery. But Kevin has a vision. He knows what he can become.
In a similar way, that is unfortunately what discipline can be like in the Christian life. It is discipline without direction. You and I stand there looking out the living room window at all those people who seem to be having so much fun, while we strum our off-key chords of spiritual discipline. “It’s time to pray again today.” “I’ve got to read the Bible again today.” “I’ve got to tithe this month.” “Here I go again, meditating on Scripture.” “What value is this?” “Fasting. I’d rather not.” “Journaling. What a waste of time.” “Solace and silence.” “Oh, I guess I have to jump through all these hoops.” That’s not the way to view spiritual disciplines.
See yourself as one for whom these disciplines are making a difference. Have a vision of what you are in the process of becoming. It’s the vision factor.
A few years ago, I clipped out of Partnership Magazine an editorial written by Ruth Senter. She made several observations that I’ve not forgotten.
She described how she and her husband moved into a new neighborhood in which the backyard stretched uninterrupted for the entire block, and the kids ran the full length of the village green. No one worried about where boundaries started or stopped. If you mowed half your neighbors lawn one week, he covered half of yours the next. Better yet, no one had to trim around fence posts. It was a lawn mowers paradise. She noted that then came the age of the fence. She wasn’t certain who came up with the idea first. One by one, the yards took on shape. Full picket fences. Split picket fences. White picket. Split rail. Chain link. Batten board. If someone cut through your backyard, they bore the physical hassle of fence jumping and the psychological burden of trespassing.

However, she stated that, not long after the fences sprang up, she noticed a strange backyard phenomenon taking place among the adults of the neighborhood. All up and down “the strip,” neighbors gathered by their fences to talk. Some leaned into conversation, elbows resting. Others hugged the post with a full-hand grip while talk flowed freely over the pickets. Feet rested on lower rails. Backs were propped against board and batten. Never before it seemed had world and village news flowed so freely from person to person. She said how she felt she was looking back out her back door onto a Robert Frost scene from “Mending Wall,” in which he wrote, “Good fences make good neighbors.” Those fences, confining though they were to children, had provided a security that promoted adult conversation. Although she observed that she had never read any behavioral science studies on the sociological implications of a fence, she began to sense that fences represented a human need for fixed limits. Since that time, she had begun to note what happens to conversations when they occur over something—a fence, a table or a tea cup. Then she read about an oddly similar response in sheep. When fenced in, they roam freely over the pasture. Remove the fence, and they huddle together in frightened little clumps.
Then she saw her own personal need for fixed limits one morning when she arrived at the physical fitness center for an early-bird swim. That morning, the director had forgotten to put up the lane ropes. Instead of diving right in, as was her usual procedure, she described how she sat with a hesitant group on the edge of the pool. No one wanted to run the risk of intruding on anyone else’s territory. So they all sat around being polite and ended up half an hour behind schedule. Ordinarily, the pool accommodated all of them. When the boundaries were removed, they felt uncertain and insecure.
She concluded her editorial with these words:

I cannot say I enjoy discipline. But I’ve learned that it provides the security I need to roam the pasture; the ropes that enable me to swim without self-consciousness; the fences I need to truly enjoy others. For freedom, I am learning, is not an absence of limits but a positive attitude toward restraint.

You see, what we are talking about is not legalistic, negativistic destruction of freedom. We are talking about that which ultimately liberates when you have the vision of that liberation, that freedom which is to come.
The noted writer and creative artist, Madeline L’Engle, was once asked in an interview to explain more fully her idea of freedom. Her response was this:
Freedom comes on the other side of work. If I want to play a Bach fugue, I must practice scales. If I hope for any transcendent experience in prayer, I have to have just done my ordinary, everyday prayers, which is the same thing as practicing my scales. I have to write every day. Freedom and discipline, rather than being antithetical, are complementary. Permissiveness, either from others toward you or toward yourself, ends up being restricting and crippling. If you choose to be a writer and a mother, you have to be incredibly disciplined. Otherwise you won’t manage. Discipline does not imprison you.
I found this true with physical exercise. When I was growing up, the idea of jogging was absurd. When our family moved from Boston to Illinois in 1954, I had a coach who challenged me to the idea of staying in good physical shape. He sketched a vision of what physical exercise could do for me in athletics and overall physical health. So I started jogging. I did it at night because, when I did it in the daytime, people would stop their cars and ask me if I was in a hurry and if I wanted a lift. That’s the way it was for us joggers back in the mid 1950s and early 1960s. But I will tell you all those years of running paid off when, in 1981 as a result of a compound fracture of my right leg in a skiing accident, I had a massive pulmonary embolism that cut off my entire right lung and a third of my left lung. All those years of cardiovascular discipline paid off, my doctor said, in ways that went beyond anything I had ever envisioned. Now, when I stride those miles power walking, and I bore myself to tears with that 35 minutes on an exercise bicycle, I have a vision of what that discipline is accomplishing.
In 1990, when our daughter Suzanne was diagnosed with cancer, I threw out my lower back. Anne insisted that I go and see Diane Curtis, the chiropractor to whom she occasionally goes. I had never been one who went in for chiropractic medicine and was a bit reluctant to go. But I did. I told Dr. Curtis of my reluctance and was quite surprised at her response. She said, “John, I’ll give you a couple of treatments to relieve the pain now. But, more importantly, I am going to give you several sheets of paper, a set of exercises accompanied with diagrams. You do these exercises faithfully, three or four times a week, and you may never have to see a chiropractor again.” I took her up on her challenge. For the last nine years, I have faithfully done them. I do them practically every day, as tedious as they can be. The vision of what is accomplished by them has already become a reality. I immediately feel better the rest of the day.
Elton Trueblood, the Quaker scholar, noted the dynamic relationship of discipline and freedom in these words:
We have not advanced very far in our spiritual lives if we have not encountered the basic paradox of freedom. . . that we are most free when we are bound. But not just any way of being bound will suffice; what matters is the character of our binding. The one who would be an athlete, but who is unwilling to discipline his body by regular exercise and abstinence, is not free to excel on the field or the track. His failure to train rigorously denies him the freedom to run with the desired speed and endurance. With one concerted voice, the giants of the devotional life apply the same principle to the whole of life: Discipline is the price of freedom.
I hope to God that you will not miss the point. I’m not trying to say that spiritual discipline will make a born-again, heaven-bound Christian out of you any more than jogging 40 minutes and stretching for 20 will make a human being out of you. What I am saying is that, even as bodily exercise, physical training is of some value, spiritual discipline, spiritual exercise leads to godliness and has value for all things, holding promise for this present life and the life to come.
Introductory Statement Four: Let me share with you four reasons why guilt-free disciplines make sense.

Let me state it as succinctly as I possibly can. These spiritual disciplines about which we are going to talk in the next few weeks are not an end in and of themselves. They are to be approached in a non-legalistic, “ought-free” manner. If you see them that way, they will make sense. If you have a vision of what can begin to happen in your life as you grab hold of these exercises, these disciplines, these four things will begin to happen.
First, they will help you grow spiritually. Just as a nutritious diet and healthy exercise is good for the body, these disciplines are good for the soul.
Second, they will prepare you for the great moments of life. These moments come only occasionally. I used to watch my daughters do those rugged volleyball drills, tumbling on hardwood gym floors in an unrelenting, brutal kind of way. I’ve watched them come home with bruises that lasted days. Then I’ve seen them and their colleagues, in a state championship game or an Ivy League playoff, make the save to help win the game.
Bear Bryant, former coach of the University of Alabama football team, used to say, “You can’t live soft all week and play tough on Saturday.” That’s why Paul says, “Train yourself in godliness. . . .” Do it every day, every moment, so as to be ready when the battle rages, when the emergency comes, so you are disciplined for that moment. I love the way Jeremiah stated it as he referred to how soft some warriors become who are not subjecting themselves to constant discipline. He wrote, “If you have raced with foot-runners and they have wearied you, how will you compete with horses? And if in a safe land you fall down, how will you fare in the thickets of the Jordan?” (Jeremiah 12:5).
Third, they enable you to endure. Some things are hard to take. There are certain limitations that you will face in life. There are certain circumstances that will be beyond your control. You will face obstacles that you never expected. There is no way you can resolve them. You simply have to live with them. There are times in which the Christian life is one of endurance.
Those of us who know the game of football well know that football is a game of attrition. There are some games in which the one team that wins is simply the team which lasts the longest. There are some Christians who don’t end up well. Why is it? Because there is a flaw in their training in godliness. If you are going to end up well, it’s because you kept up the disciplines day by day. You can’t survive on a diet of hot fudge sundaes followed by two-hour naps. I love a good hot-fudge sundae, especially with plenty of nuts, and I enjoy a good nap. But the sundae is the occasional dessert after a nutritious meal. The nap comes after the workout, providing refreshment for the challenge ahead.
Fourth, they enable you to be whole. Physical training is of some value. Keep your body in shape. Body, mind and spirit are interrelated, and we need to exercise all three. Physical exercise is limited, however, whereas “. . . godliness is valuable in every way, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come.”
Two concluding spiritual realities.

The first reality is that of coming to Jesus. If you’ve never come to Jesus, it makes no sense to practice all these spiritual disciplines. You’ll get so bogged down and so discouraged because you will simply be playing church, trying to be religious, not being energized by the spirit of God. The Holy Spirit comes into your life as you repent of sin and put your trust in Jesus Christ alone for salvation. If you’ve never received Him, do it now. Admit your need. Open your life to Him. Claim His forgiveness and new beginning.

The second of these spiritual realities is the privilege of growing and serving Him. I know that someone here this morning used to be alive spiritually. Your life was growing. You were serving. But you’ve taken a vacation from the things of God. For God’s sake and yours, don’t succumb to any manipulation by me rhetorically to somehow start jumping through all those old religious hoops again. No. See the disciplines in a new way with a vision of what you can become both in this life and the life to come, as one who is not just holding on to salvation, but is also growing in the things of God and serving the Lord in the ways that bring life and vitality to others.
Let me promise you one thing. If you take seriously this series on the spiritual disciplines, asking God to speak to you from what is being said, I’ll guarantee you that ten, twenty, thirty, forty years down the line, your life will be radically different as a result!