Start Where You Are

Approaching our spiritual formation journeys with honesty

“Start where you are” seems like a simple enough phrase, but it’s significant enough for me that it will likely be the title of my first book (should the publishers agree with me if/when I get to that stage in my writing journey). At a glance, you may read that phrase in wholehearted agreement–”Yes, I should and will start where I am… Where else would I start?”

But in culture we receive different sorts of messages. “Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.” “Fake it until you make it.” “Consider it pure joy when you face trials of many kinds.”

Omph… Wasn’t that last one scripture?

We’ll get there.

Whether it be the “American Dream,” or some other cultural phenomenon either named or unnamed, our drive to better ourselves and our situation seeps through our attitude toward work and financial stability and takes root in our concept of spiritual formation and growth. This is to our detriment.

Take a journey with me.

It’s five a.m. I roll out of bed, put on my glasses, and traipse to the living room where I sit with my eyes closed on the couch while I wait for my hubby to pour my coffee. (Yes, he really is the best). Once enough caffeine is traveling through my bloodstream, I crack open my library of books and Bibles and begin to open my mind and heart to the Lord through his word.

On this particular morning, I land here:

“Who is wise and understanding among you? Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom. But if you have bitter envy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not be boastful and false to the truth. Such wisdom does not come down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, devilish. For where there is envy and selfish ambition, there will also be disorder and wickedness of every kind.”

By now, my eyes are skimming–barely landing on the surface of the words I’m reading. Somewhere in the recesses of my conscious I’ve decided two things: First, I don’t want to be defined by these words, because that would make me bad. And second, I don’t really consider myself “devilish,” so let’s skip to the good part (as the youth’s say).

I turned 30 this week, so I can say “youths”.

Finally, I land on something I can sink my teeth into:

“But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace.”

That’s James 3:13-18 in the New Revised Standard Version.

Ahhhhh. No more of that “devilish” talk, these words are good, balmy, encouraging. Something to look forward to. I spend the better part of a couple of weeks meditating on having “pure” wisdom, and being “willing to yield.” I acknowledge, lightly, that my heart is, in fact, divided. That purity in my heart–the kind that seeks after God’s will without inordinate attachment to any other thing–is a far cry from where I am.

I joke with my husband about this scripture pointing out a need to be “willing to yield.” Let’s just say my daughter’s stubbornness has a very clear origin story. Willingness to yield would land firmly in the “weakness” category of my heart, but it sounds good and I want to be willing to yield so I think about it a lot over the next few weeks.

If we, just for this one minute, look at our spiritual formation journeys in a linear fashion (it’s not linear at all, but just roll with me for a sentence or two), I think I maybe moved a quarter of a millimeter toward Christlikeness using this feel-good method. Best case scenario, my awareness of my need for “wisdom from above” grew. I wasn’t any closer to having it, though.

A few weeks later, the same morning routine ensues, but this time I pay more attention to those verses I skimmed over the first time I meditated on this passage. I notice a distinct parallel statement in the passages that frame the “wisdom that is pure” monologue.

“For where there is envy and selfish ambition, there will also be disorder and wickedness of every kind”

“And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace.”

Disorder—peace

Righteousness—wickedness

It’s in this realization that the Spirit finally whispers the words back into my heart for the umpteenth time: Start where you are.

In an honest assessment, the weeks prior were marked with disorder in my spirit–an anxious heart grasping for control and certainty in all of the obviously dead-end avenues; and wickedness–even though the word feels a bit extreme, I was yelling at my kids more, fighting with my husband more, walking into social spaces with judgement instead of peace-making love.

By opening myself up to the reality of where I was, the Spirit was able to work some valuable insight into my heart. Where is the root of this envy and selfish ambition that causes the disorder and wickedness to flower? What steps might I take to pull this weed up by the root of my heart, freeing up the soil of my soul to plant the seeds of righteousness in peace?

In one morning, the Spirit was able to do immeasurably more actual work on my heart than I was able to muster in my own cognitive dwelling on admittedly good things. I can want to be pure and willing to yield all day long, but if I don’t know why I’m not in the first place I probably won’t get very far in my growth journey.

There’s a lot we can say on the theological flexibility we need to accept this “start where you are” process, and maybe I’ll write more on it another time. For today, though, I want to encourage you to go back to that Bible passage you’ve been focusing on for a few weeks. Zoom out and get some context. Find out what it’s saying not only about where you want to go, but also a window into examining your soul where it is today.

And might I remind you–God loves you exactly where you are today… Disorder and wickedness and all. Shame is but one of the insidious ways the enemy keeps us from genuine introspection. This introspection is not a journey of shaming, reviling, and self-deprecation. No, it’s putting on glasses to see clearly the road ahead of us so that we can run this race well.

Start where you are, and the Spirit will most assuredly bring you home.