One of my greatest struggles is when I’m skeptical about something that masses of people love. Frankly, I gaslight myself over my questions. You’re crazy. Those people must have more faith than you do. Where did yours go? Who are you to write Bible studies when you wrestle with this many questions?
Yes, I like a side of impostor syndrome with my gaslighting.
Wrestling with the questions is what truly grows my faith. But for most of my life, I parroted the instructions and traditions passed along to me by pastors, teachers, mentors, and authors. But then, I started asking questions. And some of the things I’d always done seemed more about pleasing humans than pleasing God. They were good for some people, but were they good for me?
Exhibit A
Perhaps you’ve heard of the concept of a “rule of life.” Multiple authors have covered this idea of spiritual practices that serve as a trellis for faith to grow on. I don’t know Greek, but I’ve heard that “rule” is based on a Greek word for “trellis.”
I was first introduced to the concept when I took a class on the Emotionally Healthy Spirituality book by Pete Scazzero. But, like I said, it’s all over the place if you google it. It is not a modern idea but more of a monastic way of structuring days with habits and patterns that cultivate spirituality. A rule is a plan for spiritual habits and practices that become a structure for life. You may be more familiar with the phrase “spiritual displines,” which are habits or practices. Depending on your faith traditions, these might be more personal, more liturgical, or more related to corporate worship than private.
Essentially, the “trellis” is based on John 15, where Jesus says he is the vine, and his followers are the branches. Then he asks his disciples to remain in him. Dwell. Stay. Abide.
You need to know that I mean no disrespect with what I’m about to say. If a rule of life is helping you, who am I to derail you! If you’ve had a few questions about it, I invite you to keep reading and ask some questions of your own.
Rules and Performance
It might be helpful to give a little backstory. I grew up in a rules-focused Christian environment. Bottom line: I learned that I could do nothing to save myself from sin’s consequences (no argument there!), and then from that point forward, it was all about rigid compliance to rules, practices, moral structures, and such. Performance. That’s where I have an argument.
My unease with the idea of creating a rigid structure with morning prayer, silence and solitude, daily examen, Sabbath, prayer and fasting, Scripture meditation, Bible study has grown. Why? Stay with me. I promise that these are not bad things.
I’ll just put it all out there. Building a “rule of life” feels like saying we must build a structure so Jesus, the vine, has some growing direction. As if we are responsible for the growing. Or as if Jesus can’t support himself and direct us. In John 15, Jesus said to remain in him. Based on what I know about Jesus from his life, he was never complicated. He even said his commands are not burdens. He didn’t give a list of how his disciples would remain in him. He just said to do it.
Good Intentions
The intention of a rule of life is to become, not just do. To emphasize patterns. To create a sustainable way of living that gives spiritual direction. The intention is good. And it has value.
However.
Every example I have seen looks like a list of tasks to me. A complicated grid of daily, weekly, and monthly things to do. And to be honest, whenever I have participated in this sort of structure, it feels good, as if I’m really doing something to cultivate Jesus’s ways in me. But if I were to really examine it, it would be that for me those practices have tended to become idols in and of themselves. It feels like spiritual growth to do more spiritual things. But is it growth? Anything can become an idol. Even spiritual things.
Does it lead to more abiding? This is the question.
Personally, I quickly fall back into old legalistic ways—and become morally superior to others who don’t follow similar practices. I lean toward the rigid more than the flexible. And I forget that Jesus didn’t ask me to hold on for dear life and work really hard to remain connected to the vine. Pride swells. Burnout ensues. Discouragement follows.
Jesus basically told his disciples that he was the source and they grew out from him. A flow of nurturing from the core. Growth happens naturally when conditions are right, not by sheer effort.
What Is Abiding?
As I worked on writing my most recent Bible study, I spent a lot of time trying to understand what Jesus meant about abiding in him.
Ultimately, I encouraged readers to stop doing things that were just to impress God with activities we check off a list. To stop making spiritual growth about tasks if those were more about spiritual busyness. First and foremost is self-examination. One question to ask: Are my habits deepening my relationship with Jesus, or am I using them to measure my worth or progress?
If you’ve read this far. Thank you for listening. I invite you to join me in stripping away the things that rely on sheer human effort and connect with Jesus as the source where it’s about surrender and trust, not about our effort but about allowing his life to flow into and through us.
If pushing harder, doing more, and anxiously measuring progress has you spiritually exhausted and frustrated, remember, branches don’t produce fruit by themselves. The vine supports them. Your Vine supports you.
When we remain in Jesus, we trust his timing, wisdom, and power to grow us. We simply position ourselves to receive—through prayer, Scripture, or worship—but don’t force the process.
“Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing.
(John 15:5 NLT)
I am about to buy the first Bible study book I have purchased in 20 years. Yours. 😌Thankful for you! 🙏
This is so good, Michelle! The "old me" wanted to adhere to all the rules to be perceived as a godly person. I knew I couldn't earn God's love. It's automatic. But it seemed complying to rules helped earn the love of humans. On the other hand, because I'd been burned by the very religion that set up the rules, the "old me" also wanted to rebel and say, "you're not the boss of me!" Not to God. But to humans. The "new me" is concentrating on abiding. I don't always stay in that space because sometimes I slip back into the old me. But I love how focusing on God's presence in the moment with me is enough. Then the other things I used to strive to do have the opportunity to simply flow. A rhythm of worship that comes from the sap of the vine I'm connected to. I can't wait to read your new Bible study. It's in the top three position of my TBR stack! (Not just read it, but process the material and write out what I draw from the insights.)