Spiritual Maturity

What Cain teaches us about spiritual maturity

What makes someone “spiritually mature?”

This question is implicit (and occasionally explicit) in almost everything we do in our Christian walk. The sermons preached, the behaviors committed to, the discipleship styles engaged are generally all pointed at our view of what it is that makes someone spiritually mature.

For the vast majority of my early Christian walk, I believed that spiritual maturity was marked by doctrinal correctness, willingness to share your faith boldly, and adherence to a set of behaviors that were (loosely) based on scriptural mandates.

So, I shared my faith by inviting people to church and felt guilty when I wasn’t sure how to work Jesus into a conversation. I regularly studied the Bible to find confidence in doctrines about salvation, sin, and end times–and engaged sometimes aggressively with others who did not share the same doctrinal framework. My discipleship times centered around my behavior–listing out all the good and bad things I had done this week and exploring plans to stop doing the bad and sinful things.

Some of you may be reading this and cheering me on: “Go you, Leslie! This is the mark of spiritual maturity!” And perhaps 5 years ago I would have agreed with you (though feigning humility in defense against pride).

The problem with this pattern of faith, however, is that it was only sustainable so long as I possessed the strength to do the things I saw as so important. If you go back through and read with fresh eyes what I tended to focus on in the early part of my spirituality, you might notice that each of the marks of spiritual maturity found their impetus in my own abilities. My Bible study, my conviction and self-control, my willingness or ability to share my faith all centered on my own perspective, my own understanding, and my own will-power and strength.

Additionally, this spiritual maturity comes with no sense of process–only arrival, or not. In other words, you either do the good and right things, or you don’t. There is no in-between, no process… (anyone else’s ears ringing with sermons about being lukewarm, or if they’re not for us they’re against us?).

But the Biblical narrative is wrought with stories of people who were mostly kind of OK at being human, and even more stories of people who were downright broken and misguided. If we read the Bible carefully, God comes to dwell with and intervene in the lives of some pretty shady characters with commentary on their behavior kept at a minimum compared to the litany of self-berating that tends to flow through my mind at the first sign of imperfection.

Let’s take a look at one story in particular that’s confusing at first glance–especially when we’re looking at behavioral markers of spiritual maturity.

In Genesis 4, we learn that Adam and Eve conceived and bought forth two sons–Cain and Abel. Both sons bring an offering to the Lord, and without much explanation we are told that the Lord had regard for Abel and his offering, but for Cain and his offering he had no regard. At this point in the story, our heads are reeling–why did God not regard his offering!? We need to know so we can will-power our way out of the same mistakes.

But, the author doesn’t tell us. In fact, the story just keeps on moving forward: after the rejected offering, Cain becomes angry (relatable), and God kneels down to converse with this sullen figure. Take note that this is the first God-human interaction recorded after Adam and Eve are exiled from Eden.

God asks a question of Cain, “Why are you angry, and why has your countenance fallen? If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it.”

There is no recorded response in this conversation–apparently, Cain doesn’t turn his face to connect with the Lord like he is invited to. Instead, the next sentence is the genesis of the story of the first murder in the Biblical narrative–Cain’s downward spiral cost the life of another human being.

So what are we to make of all of this? For the sake of time, I can’t even tap into the rest of the story, but what of this first bit. This sullen, angry Cain–met by God, invited to connection.

The Hebrew is pretty interesting here, just given all the directional language God uses. First, he notes that Cain’s “countenance” has fallen–downward orientation. I think I have a pretty good picture of a fallen countenance because I have toddlers who anchor their gaze at the floor when pouting or angry. Then, he invites Cain to “make a thing right,” or do well. In this instance, God invites Cain to a postural change that will then “lift his countenance,” or “be accepted” in other translations.

God invites Cain out of his downward spiral with connection, gentle curiosity, and a warning. If Cain is the toddler of my household, gaze indignantly anchored to the floor, the author of Genesis gives us God’s hand tenderly on his chin urging his eyes to meet the gaze of love and guidance.

Cain refuses that invitation, and it costs his brother’s life and so much more.

Let’s look (perhaps less in depth) at one more Old Testament example before I finish.

King David has always been a bit perplexing to me. His name takes up much more of the Biblical story than has seemed to make sense to me–even with significant readings of 1 Samuel. Perhaps it’s my Enneagram 2 nature, or my empath nature, or my feminine nature, but I’ve always been turned off by the “warrior” narratives and David’s story seems to be wrought with examples of violence that seemed to go against my understanding of God.

Aside from his conquests, David is pretty well known for a couple major missteps–the big one being adultery, murder, and lying to cover up those crimes. Already he’s several notches in the hole from sullen Cain, from a behavioral perfection standpoint.

And yet, David holds one of the 5 major covenantal promises in the Biblical narrative. The Israelite nation looks for “A king like David,” all the way until the days of Jesus himself.

On this most recent reading, however, I caught a glimpse of something that may give us another window into this conversation on spiritual maturity:

In contrast to the judges, Saul, or even his own son Solomon, David’s story is full of moments talking about or to God about the events of his life. To Saul and Solomon, God always had to make the first move–come to them in a dream, or smack them over the head with divine revelation before they wondered what God might think about their life choices. But David makes the first move a lot. In fact, the only time I can recall that God had to come first to David is after sleeping with Bathsheba and the repentant lament that follows is unlike anything ever expressed by his predecessor or successor.

I’m not sure if this is supposed to be the takeaway from King David, a man after God’s own heart, but it seems to fit the pattern that is outlined throughout the rest of the story. The mark of spiritual maturity is not centered in behaviors, like so many of us have driving our internal guilt narratives.

Instead, the mark of spiritual maturity seems to be the ability to connect with God himself. When I’m angry, when I've just sinned, when I’m excited about the plans I have–is my heart curious about and responsive to the movement of the Spirit in my heart? Can I meet God in the middle of my sadness, brokenness, pain, or indignation? Do I trust his promise that my countenance will be lifted? Do I soften at his touch or at his reminders of his presence?

I think these, more than anything else, are the mark of true spiritual maturity. And the truth is, when our hearts are able to connect fully and deeply with the Lord, through the good, bad, and ugly of life, we will learn to behave like Christ more authentically than if we just attempt the behavior sans connection. The behavior, the living into our fully restored humanity, is a process–one that takes time and is full of stumbles, wobbles, and all-out face-plants.

I pray that you know without a shadow of a doubt that our God is tender, full of mercy, and longing to connect with you–right in the middle of this sinful and messy life. I pray you focus on that connection above all else in your spiritual formation journey. I pray that you, we, will soften and find our countenances to be lifted by the Creator of our souls.

Later this week, I’ll be releasing a guided meditation for connecting with the Lord after a stumble for my paid subscribers. I hope you’ll consider joining, or sharing with a friend who might benefit.