There are some passages of Scripture that are easy to agree with until you actually have to live them.
That thought has been sitting with me lately.
In our Life Group, we have been studying 1 Timothy, and recently our conversation turned toward the instructions Paul gives Timothy about the things Christians should avoid and the things we are supposed to hold onto.
Paul tells Timothy:
“But you, man of God, flee from all this, and pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance and gentleness.” - 1 Timothy 6:11
Then, immediately after that:
“Fight the good fight of the faith.” - 1 Timothy 6:12
And maybe I have read those words too quickly before.
Because when we started actually talking about them, not just reading them, but asking what they look like in our everyday lives, I realized something.
Some of those things are hard.
Really hard.
Not because we don't know what Scripture says.
Not because we don't love God.
And not necessarily because we don't want to obey.
Sometimes they are hard because we are trying to live them out while surrounded by circumstances, people, disappointments, fears, pressures, and situations that we cannot control.
It is one thing to say I should have faith.
It is another thing to have faith when I cannot see what God is doing.
It is one thing to say I should be gentle.
It is another thing entirely when someone has hurt me, or even harder, when someone has hurt one of my children.
It is one thing to talk about contentment.
It is another thing when I am looking around at what everyone else seems to have, where everyone else seems to be going, or how easily something seems to be happening for someone else while I am still waiting.
It is one thing to say I should endure.
It is another thing when I am tired.
Not I need a nap tired.
Soul tired.
The kind of tired that comes from carrying something for longer than you ever thought you would have to carry it.
And somewhere in our conversation, we began talking about how much of this battle is influenced by things outside of us.
Things we cannot control.
Other people's choices.
The world our children are growing up in.
What people say about us.
What people think about us.
What happens at work.
What happens at school.
What happens inside our families.
The diagnosis we didn't expect.
The prayer that hasn't been answered the way we hoped.
The door that closed.
The plan that changed.
The future we cannot see.
And yet, somehow, God still calls us to righteousness.
Godliness.
Faith.
Love.
Endurance.
Gentleness.
That is where I began thinking about the phrase we Christians use so often:
We are called to be in the world, but not of the world.
I think sometimes I have reduced that idea to avoiding certain behaviors.
Don't do what the world does.
Don't believe what the world believes.
Don't participate in certain things.
And yes, there is truth there.
But lately I have been wondering if there is another side of it.
Maybe being in the world but not of the world also means refusing to allow everything happening around me to determine what happens inside me.
Because the world is loud.
Fear is loud.
Comparison is loud.
Anger is loud.
Disappointment is loud.
Other people's opinions are loud.
The desire to protect my children is loud.
The need to fix things is loud.
The desire to know what happens next is loud.
And my need for control?
If I'm being truthful, sometimes that might be the loudest thing of all.
And that is where I have found another name of God.
El Elyon.
God Most High.
We first encounter this name in Genesis 14, when Melchizedek blesses Abram in the name of El Elyon - God Most High, Creator of heaven and earth.
I love that.
Not simply God who is high.
God Most High.
There is nothing above Him.
No authority above Him.
No circumstance above Him.
No person above Him.
No diagnosis above Him.
No fear above Him.
No unknown future above Him.
Nothing.
And suddenly I realized why this name speaks so directly into what we were discussing in Life Group.
Because so many of the things that make Paul's instructions difficult are things that begin competing for position in our hearts.
Something happens, and suddenly it feels enormous.
Someone says something, and I replay it over and over.
One of my children is struggling, and suddenly my mind races ten steps ahead trying to solve problems that haven't even happened yet.
Something doesn't go according to plan, and I immediately begin figuring out how I can fix it.
A prayer seems unanswered, and fear starts whispering possibilities.
Before I realize it, that situation has become the biggest thing in my vision.
And whatever becomes biggest in my vision begins influencing everything else.
My thoughts.
My emotions.
My reactions.
My words.
My peace.
My faith.
Maybe that is why I need to remember:
El Elyon.
God Most High.
The situation may be big.
But it is not Most High.
The fear may be real.
But it is not Most High.
The person may have influence.
But they are not Most High.
The diagnosis may change my plans.
But it is not Most High.
The world may be loud.
But it is not Most High.
My children may face things I desperately wish I could protect them from.
But those things are not Most High.
God is.
And maybe remembering that changes the way I read Paul's words.
Because Paul doesn't tell Timothy that following Christ will mean everything around him becomes easy.
Quite the opposite.
He tells him to flee some things.
To pursue others.
To fight.
To take hold.
Those are active words.
There is resistance in them.
There is intentionality in them.
There is a battle in them.
Maybe faith was never supposed to mean that there wouldn't be a fight.
Maybe faith is what tells me where to stand while the fight is happening.
The Battle Between What I Know and What I Feel
I know God is faithful.
But sometimes I feel afraid.
I know God provides.
But sometimes I worry.
I know God tells me to be gentle.
But sometimes anger feels much easier.
I know God tells me to love.
But sometimes people are incredibly difficult to love.
I know God tells me to endure.
But sometimes I want to tell Him, I've endured enough.
I know God is sovereign.
But sometimes I still desperately want control.
And I think this is where I have misunderstood spiritual maturity at times.
Maybe maturity isn't reaching some point where those feelings never show up.
Maybe it is learning what to do when they do.
When fear shows up, I remember who is Most High.
When anger shows up, I remember who is Most High.
When comparison shows up, I remember who is Most High.
When uncertainty shows up, I remember who is Most High.
When something involving my children makes every protective instinct inside of me scream, I remember who loves them even more than I do.
El Elyon.
And remembering who is highest helps put everything else back into its proper place.
Maybe This Is What Surrender Actually Looks Like
I used to think surrender meant reaching some peaceful moment where I finally stopped caring about the outcome.
I'm beginning to think that isn't surrender at all.
Surrender isn't indifference.
Surrender is caring deeply and still placing the outcome into God's hands.
It is praying desperately and still saying, Your will.
It is loving my children fiercely while remembering they belonged to God before they ever belonged to me.
It is doing everything I am responsible for doing without trying to take responsibility for the things only God can do.
It is recognizing the difference between my responsibility and God's sovereignty.
That one is hard for me.
Because I like solutions.
I like plans.
I like knowing what comes next.
If something is wrong, I want to fix it.
If one of my children has a problem, I want to solve it.
If there is uncertainty, I want answers.
If there is a closed door, I want to know why it closed and where the next one is.
But sometimes God doesn't give me the entire plan.
Sometimes He simply reminds me who He is.
El Elyon.
God Most High.
Maybe I don't need to know everything that is going to happen when I know the One who remains above everything that happens.
In the World, But Not Ruled by It
The world will still affect us.
I don't think being a Christian means pretending otherwise.
There will be things that hurt.
Things that frighten us.
Things that anger us.
Things that disappoint us.
Things that make us question.
Things that make us tired.
Things that happen to our children that we wish we could take upon ourselves instead.
Being “not of the world” doesn't mean I become untouched by those things.
Maybe it means they don't get the final word.
Fear doesn't get the final word.
Anger doesn't get the final word.
Comparison doesn't get the final word.
Disappointment doesn't get the final word.
Culture doesn't get the final word.
Other people don't get the final word.
Even my own emotions don't get the final word.
El Elyon does.
And I think that is exactly why Paul's words near the end of 1 Timothy are so powerful.
After telling Timothy to pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance and gentleness…
After telling him to fight the good fight…
Paul points him back toward the One who is above everything.
He describes God as the only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords.
Maybe that isn't accidental.
Maybe Paul knew something we need to remember too:
You cannot fight the good fight by staring only at the fight.
Eventually, you have to lift your eyes higher.
Higher than the circumstance.
Higher than the fear.
Higher than the culture.
Higher than the opinions.
Higher than the uncertainty.
Until your eyes reach the One who has been above it all the entire time.
What Have I Made Higher?
So this is the question I have been sitting with:
What have I allowed to become higher in my heart than the Most High God?
Not higher in what I say I believe.
I know the Sunday school answer.
God is first.
But what does my worry say?
What does my anger say?
What does the amount of time I spend replaying something in my mind say?
What does my need to control an outcome say?
What does my fear about my children's futures say?
What does my inability to let something go say?
Because anything I continually place above God's sovereignty will eventually begin ruling something inside of me.
And there is only One who belongs in that place.
El Elyon.
The Most High God.
So maybe fighting the good fight looks a little different than I imagined.
Maybe today it looks like choosing gentleness when anger would be easier.
Maybe tomorrow it looks like refusing comparison.
Maybe it looks like trusting when I don't understand.
Maybe it looks like praying instead of panicking.
Maybe it looks like doing the part God has given me to do and surrendering the part He hasn't.
Maybe it looks like loosening my grip on something I have been desperately trying to control.
And maybe sometimes fighting the good fight simply looks like whispering a name until my heart remembers what my head already knows:
El Elyon.
You are God Most High.
This situation is not higher than You.
This fear is not higher than You.
This person is not higher than You.
This world is not higher than You.
And even when I cannot control what is happening around me, I can choose what I hold onto within me.
Righteousness.
Godliness.
Faith.
Love.
Endurance.
Gentleness.
And above all else -
You.
Jehovah Rapha → God, I need You to heal what I cannot heal.
El Elyon → God, I need to trust You with what I cannot control.
