“Don’t you know that your body is a part of Christ?” I find that phrase chilling.

Currently, a part of Jesus is sitting in a chair at a desk, typing away on a Macbook… A part of Jesus lives in a comfortably-sized one bedroom apartment in California.

But I happen to know that another part of Christ is currently working away at making tortillas on a hotplate, in a small, 150 sq ft concrete building called home in Nicaragua, with a baby over her shoulder. And another part is fast asleep below a stretching sky, illuminated by every imaginable star in the heart of the Kenyan bush.

I know these women. Yet I imagine the millions more parts of Jesus I don’t know personally, walking around this earth, talking, teaching, baking, and sleeping.

Jesus is up to a heck of a lot around here.

But I imagine that some parts of Jesus’ body alive on earth today are not doing the most godly of things. We are capable of taking our bodies, Jesus and all, and doing all sorts of evil.

It was this very thing that Paul was addressing as he wrote the words, “Don’t you know that your bodies are parts of Christ? …” He was writing to people who were doing all kinds of sexual craziness, including a man who was sleeping with his father’s wife.

We Are Called

With this statement of Epic proportion that our bodies are parts of Christ and temples of the Holy Spirit himself, Paul gives an exhortation: “So honor God with your bodies.“

In Paul’s case, the specific application is sexual morality – and thus the emphasis is appropriately physical. But how else do we honor God with our bodies? With our minds? With who we are?

We are called to honor God with our bodies. And with everything else.

We can’t exactly get away with focusing only on the body. Remember the greatest commandment?

We are to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength. Writing to the Corinthians, who thought maybe they’d found a loophole, Paul gets specific and reminds them this includes their body and sexuality as well.

Do you know that you are a temple of the Spirit, your body a part of Christ? Before me, staring at a screen, sits one amazing piece of Jesus on earth – you.

We’re always trying to believe that we matter (at least I am…). We wonder about purpose. And sitting on my white Ikea desk, bound in pretend leather, sits a book which contains the words that give us these things: You have the Holy Spirit from God. Your body is part of Christ himself.

What greater purpose could there be than to carry the spirit of the savior of the world everywhere we go?

In a sense, whatever we do, a part of Jesus does to.

Jesus, these days, is studying and cleaning and working and sleeping, in just about every country on earth. And we are given the gift to choose what we do with our minutes and our lives – which, as Paul writes, are not really ours in the first place.

What will you, as a part of Christ on earth, do?

So many things have been said in this world. And as I embark on my adult life, I wonder if there is anything left to say.

And I wonder what God would say to this world. Would it be new? Old? Somehow both at the same time? What would he say to us if we gave him a pen (or keyboard)?

What would Jesus type?

Now there’s a thought.

Would he ask us to consider the lilies and how beautiful they are, even though they don’t make clothes? Would he update it? Would he use analogies about cars and computers?

The kingdom of heaven in like a carburetor…

If Jesus wanted to say something to us, what would it be?

I can’t say I know for sure. And I do know that we have a giant book of things he’s said before. And that certainly is our reference point.

But what would he say today, if he spoke 21^st century American English, and struck up a chat with one of us on the street? Like I said, I don’t really know. But here’s a guess:

“I want you to know that I love you. That I care.

In the midst of a seemingly meaningless life, you matter. Because I matter.

And I made you. You are mine. You are no one else’s.

I would do anything for you. And I will never stop, never leave, never fail or betray you. You can count on me every time.

You are my masterpiece.

Now go act like it.”

Q: What do you think Jesus would type?

As of Wednesday, that is the iPhone 5.

But despite that even bigger retina display for our everyday technological needs, I don’t think we’re seeing any clearer here in Silicon Valley.

Around here, everything is faster and better. A smart phone six months old is just that – old. People drive like their seconds are worth millions. Excellence is expected. Prosperity assured. And your ability to make money is practically interchangeable with the quality of your character.

In our little tech bubble, it’s easy to forget that the world is broken. Here, it seems that anyone with half a brain could learn to program and make an easy hundred grand a year. More if you’re smart and motivated. But for 99.9% of people on earth, that’s just not true.

People who are smart and motivated and full of love for others starve everyday. If an average person has anywhere to live at all, it has a dirt floor, bare concrete walls, and sketchy insects as pets – not a hot tub and fitness center. Most smart people can’t get a living wage let alone a fulfilling job that fits their strengths and personality.

What about them? What about the people across the freeways and oceans who don’t have the opportunity we have lucked into? Do we have any responsibility to share or care?

A famous guy once said, “It is easier for a camel to fit through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.”

Around here, we’re pretty good at making some really complicated things excruciatingly thin. But we are yet to fit a camel through the eye of a needle – even if you put the image of one on an iPhone 5.

And I wonder what might happen if we focused less on making money by making our devices a little thinner, and more on those billions of people who don’t yet have the opportunities we do.

I wonder, if we put together all these brains, motivation, and skills, if we could figure out why the earth grows enough food for everyone, but so many people have nothing to eat. Could we build platforms and networks, those very things we use for financial gain, and figure out how to rework the broken system of our resources?

I don’t know. What I do know is that Jesus was right. And that we still focus on the wrong things. We spend so much time trying to squeeze the camel through that we don’t even read the second half of the sentence.

It’s not easy for a rich person to enter into God’s reign. Perhaps it’s impossible.

For those of us who follow Jesus, that’s exactly what we want to do. We want to be under God’s rule. We want to bring his domain to our earth. Our valley, even.

So if we’re rich, what do we do? If we are part of the 1% of the earth, can we enter the kingdom of God?

In blog posts, it’s usually good to answer questions you pose to your readers. But I’m not sure I want to answer this one to quickly for you or for myself. It’s easy to conclude with a happy, “Yes, because Jesus died for our sins!” Though that’s probably a true answer, the situation before us isn’t a happy one. And I don’t think we’re supposed to ignore it.

It’s easier for a camel to fit through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.

I don’t think the iPhone is going to save us on this one.

At least that’s how I feel most of the time. As I pull up to my office, apartment, or school and take a deep breath before stepping out of the car – I think I know what no one else knows: I should not be doing this.

I work at a church as a college minister, which, for the record, is the coolest job ever. But if I’m honest with you, I often think maybe God picked the wrong person for the task. I am young, female, and not all put together. Sometimes my apartment is really messy, my car is worse, and my faith is running on empty. It seems to me that there has to be someone out there more polished. One of those people who has this crazy life under control. God should pick one of them to do this.

But, for reasons unknown, God called me.

That is what I have in common with Moses. It’s what we all do. Here’s a quick peak into Moses’ call:

God: Hey Moses, I want you to go get my people from Egypt because I’ve heard their prayers for help.
Moses: Why should I be the one to do that?
God: I will be with you.
Moses: But what if they ask me what your name is?
God: Ok, for the first time in the whole Bible, I’ll tell you my name. It’s “I Am.” You can tell them that.
Moses: What if they don’t believe that I really saw you?
God: I’ll make it so you can do miracles so they’ll believe you. Here, let’s practice…
Moses: Ok. Yeah. That’s pretty good. But, as you know, I am not a good public speaker.
God: Who gives any human the ability to speak? Me!
And then Moses says, and I quote (in English translation), “Please, my Lord, just send someone else.”

Man, I feel that guy.  I’m pretty sure God and I have a similar conversation regularly. And that’s because, like Moses, God has called me to do something I feel utterly unable to do.

God asked Moses to lead a nation out of a country enslaving them. Moses was not so sure that was a good idea. He didn’t think he was much of a public speaker or nation-mover. I don’t blame him.

But the truth is that no one is adequate for the pure work of God. Everyone is less than what they wish they were, and much less that what God’s call requires. God’s work cannot be done without Him. When we realize we’re not enough to get it done, it reminds us whose work it really it.

The problem is that even when we realize it’s God’s work, and that he’s really big and awesome, it’s still scary. It’s scary to do something bigger than yourself. Something you can’t control. We are raised on the idea that we must master our surroundings, our work, and our dreams.

It’s unnerving to be vulnerable and inadequate. Yet that is where we find ourselves. Every day of this life that we try to live for Jesus, we will be living beyond our ability. And so everyday will be kind of scary. Everyday we will feel that we can’t do what we’re called to. Everyday we will be weak. So it sure is a good thing that every day when we’re scared and unsure, God will be strong and faithful. We just have to believe that. Every. Single. Day.

Each morning, I wake up and wonder what I possibly have to offer this world, and why someone else can’t do it instead.

What do we do when we’re there? What do you do when you’re inadequate? When that thing you feel in your gut you’re called to do scares you to death?

What do we say when God asks something of us we’re sure we’re not good enough for?

The only thing we can say. “Yes.”

Yes, God.

Ok. I’ll do it. But only ‘cause you think it’s a good idea…

You don’t have to know how it’s going to get done. You don’t even have to be the person you think would be best. If God asks you to go to Egypt and get his people, there’s only one thing to do. Go get them.

So where are you? What do you feel called to, even if you don’t think you’re good enough for the job? What is something you could say “Yes, God” to today?

As it turns out, I am not the main character in this story. Someone else is. Someone grand. Someone amazing. Someone a whole lot bigger than me. This story that’s written in history books and on ancient papyrus, that’s embedded on each of our hearts, isn’t about us. It’s about God.

In the beginning, God created. At the end, God renews the earth and comes to live with his people. In the middle, God saves the day.

So if my life is not the point – if I am not the protagonist, what do I do? How on earth am I supposed to live if life is not about me?

Our current American culture leaves us without direction for such a pursuit. We are adrift at sea without catchy slogans for a compass or self-interest for a sail.  Very little we’ve learned, whether from academics or sitcoms, has given us forms by which to live a non-self-centered life.

If we want to do that, we’ve got to look elsewhere. To another culture, place, or time, another teacher or writer, to show us how it’s done.

You may have guessed by now, but the only place I can think to find the way on this is in the pages of scripture. The other stuff just isn’t going to work.

If you’re like me and want to live for God, but find that nearly impossible in our individualistic, materialistic, American-dream driven lives – come along. Come with me on this journey. I’d love your help, input, ideas. I’m going to look at scripture and see what I can come up with, but I’m certainly not going to get it all right. Especially not on my own.

So join me. Bring some coffee, a Bible, and a prayer to learn, change, and grow. I’ll do the same.

I’ll ask questions along the way (which is a sneaky way of trying to get you to help me out with this whole endeavor…). I’d be honored if you’d jump into the conversation once in a while.

So the question of the post is…

Where should I start if I want to know how to live a life that’s not about me? Where would you start?

Attempting to solve my dilemma, I signed up for a free e-course by writer Jeff Goins on blogging. His second lesson describes the need for a blog to have focus. Jeff asks his new pupils to consider what they truly have passion for.

As you may have read in my last post, this question often leaves me perplexed. In a world where young people are supposed to follow their dreams, I am not entirely sure what mine are.

So I sat in my chair, pen and notepad in hand, and I started listing things that might be my passion.

I came up with a varied list of unique things I care about. I spend a lot of time in seminary, reading theology and studying ancient languages. A fair amount of my life also consists of organizing our new apartment, learning a foreign skill called cooking, and generally figuring out how to be an adult. (I can now tell you what a 401(k) is. Look at me go…) Then, there is my job in college ministry which I absolutely adore. Yet if you ask me to sit and write a blog about my job, you’ll get a blank page and a very baffled looking young woman.

Having little luck identifying something I felt was my true passion, I moved on to one of the sub-questions in Jeff’s exercise for finding one’s passion. He asked, “What could you write about for a year and not run out of ideas?” And somehow, with that spin on it, my answer was clear.

For me, there is only one honest answer to that question. Problem is, it’s cheesy. It’s the correct answer to every Sunday school question ever. It’s what Christians find to be the most obvious, cliché “passion” for anyone who gathers at a church on Sunday mornings. And it’s simultaneously considered one of the most absurd, naïve things to be passionate about by those who don’t.

The thing I could write endlessly about, or rather, the person, is Jesus.

Jesus is my passion. It almost feels like cheating. Like my passion should be Greek verb usage, college ministry strategies, or cooking perfect soufflés. It should be something more specific. Or less goody-two-shoes.

My passion is the right and wrong answer, all at the same time. But it’s the only one I’ve got. Jesus is only thing I could truly write endlessly about. I could cover miles of paper with how ridiculously amazing he his. Why he matters. Things he does.

Greek, college ministry, and delicious food are all involved in that, to be sure. But for me, those things aren’t really the point.

My passion is Jesus.

What about you? What could you write about for a year and not run out of ideas?

Interviewers seek passionate employees. Hollywood tells stories of passionate love. And every new freshman is told to follow their dreams. Problem is, sometimes the yellow brick road is easier to find.

It’s actually fairly easy to feign passion. To pretend that you’re excited about something is the American way. Actors are excited about the new Tide formula that gets clothes whiter and brighter. Teachers are thrilled to explain algebra to 13 year olds, when they actually studied biochemistry. One time, I even convinced myself for several quarters of college that I liked applied science. Luckily, I realized I was pretending just in time to change my major. Abstract math was much better for me.

We’re expected to be passionate. So for the 87% of the time we don’t really feel it, we pretend instead.

The reality is quite different from our American dreaminess. As a whole, our nation is depressed. We’re not really bubbly and carefree. Most of the time we wonder if there’s anything worth caring about at all.

And yet, we do care. In the midst of our disillusionment, we still hope.

Most of the time, I feel like I’m passionate about the wrong things. I’m supposed to care about being successful or “expressing myself,” but I actually delight most in watching the little creek outside my window. I’m supposed to want to solve world hunger (and sometimes, I do want that). But at times, I just really want chocolate. I can be very passionate about chocolate…

So what am I actually passionate about? If I stopped pretending long enough to realize I actually detest applied science, what would I find?

What are you truly passionate about?

It might be easier to start with things that we’re supposed to be excited about, but aren’t. My list goes something like this:

• technology (I live in Silicon Valley – it’s very bad not to care about technology here…)
• saving $2 a month on car insurance
• fashion
• apologetics
• philosophy
• history
• and… the cardinal offense right now: politics

What do you pretend to be passionate about? And if, for a moment, you stopped mustering excitement, what would you truly care about? What fuels you? And what drains your energy like having location tracking enabled on a smart phone?

If we want to live the abundant life set before us by our passionate Maker, we need to know what really matters to us.

I’ll share in the next post what I discovered I’m passionate about. But I had to strip away all my self-imposed pretense before I could get there.

I’d love to hear your list too. What are you supposed to be excited about that you just aren’t?

The Kilgoris Project from Jon McCormack on Vimeo.

We’ve heard sermons on why it matters, listened to stories from friends about how it helped their day, and had some great experiences reading and praying ourselves. So what’s the problem? Why is it so hard for us who follow God to meet with Him daily?

I’ve struggled with this off and on for years. I absolutely love studying the Bible and talking to God. I work in ministry – so I’m reminded daily that without God, I’ve got nothing. With all my starting, stopping, and stumbling along the way, I have learned some things. These days, I know more about how to reset myself when I realize that my time with God has fallen out of my daily rhythms. Again.

5 Steps to Creating a Consistent Quiet Time

1. Set a Time

The first thing a consistent quiet time needs is a place on your schedule. If I go into a day without a plan for when I will have a quiet time, it’s not likely to happen. But, if I begin a day with a time set aside to meet with God, there’s actually a good chance I’ll do it.

The problem with sticking to our quiet times is not desire. Quite often, we do want to meet with God – thanks to the work of his Spirit in us. The problem is our patterns. We function mostly based on our habits. And if there is no set place where we’ve trained ourselves to sit and pray, it’s much less likely to happen. I learned this about myself through reading a new book called The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg. I’d recommend it if you’d like to learn more about how to reset your habits and patterns.

So, pick a time and place (and way to be alone if you’re a mom with kids). For me, it works to have the same time everyday. If I try to vary it based on different days, I get all confused and make excuses more easily. But, if you’re like my nurse roommate who works three 12-hours shifts and then has four days off, you may need to have two main times – one for days you work and one for days you don’t. So do what works for you.

2. Use Your Cues

It also helps to have other things, called cues, tied to your quiet time. This is something else I learned from The Power of Habit that has made all the difference. Our habits function based on cues and rewards. But often, we try to set them only on a specific time. The problem is, we get lost in other things, check the clock, and our time has passed. If we set our routine based on cues (as well as making the time in our schedule), completing our goal is much easier.

So what does that mean? For example, I try read the Bible in the morning. I could just tell myself to sit down and do it at 7:30am no matter what. But I’ve found it’s much easier if I tie my quiet time to my morning routine. I get up, put on my slippers, and walk to the kitchen. I start the coffee machine, pour a bowl of cereal, and sit down to read the Bible as I eat breakfast and wait for the coffee to be ready. Cereal is my cue. When I pour cereal, my brain naturally reminds me to open the Bible and read it. I let my morning activities point me to my quiet time. And, as it happens, that usually tends to place it at about 7:30am anyway.

3. Debunk Your Excuses

Besides not having an established habit, our excuses are our quiet time’s worst enemy. I’ve found that I have a couple of thoughts that regularly pop into my head and drive me somewhere else. One of mine is, “I have too much to do.” When I act on this, I take my cereal and go get ready for the day instead of spending that time with God, all in the name of getting more done.

So how do we take control back from our excuses? First, we have to recognize what they are. From there, we can plan a response. Now, whenever I think I should do something else in the morning to get ahead, I initiate my planned response and say, “Well, you might get a few minutes ahead, but your whole day will be out of perspective and you’ll actually wind up a day behind in your life with God.” It convinces me. So that’s what I go with.

So what are your excuses? Identify them. And then come up with a plan of attack. When you’re excuse cycle is triggered with one of those thoughts, how will you respond?

4. Get Focused

Getting focused by having a plan for my quiet time is a way I address one of my other excuses: that a quiet time is aimless and won’t actually accomplish anything. If I don’t enter a quiet time with a plan (will I read? if so what? will I pray? journal?), then I feel like I’m wandering around in the spiritual woods without getting anywhere. So it helps me to know my focus in advance. Am I learning about the word by reading through a book of the Bible? Am I praying to know God? Praying for others? Journalling? Meditating? You can always change your focus as your times with God grow and change, but start with a plan.

5. Just Do It

And for the grand finale… you have to actually do it. You can read this post ten times, but if you just keep moving through your days in the same way, it won’t change anything. The good news is it doesn’t have to end like that.

We can effect our lives. We can have a consistent time with God. But for that to happen, you have to act. Get away from the computer for a minute and think of a time, some habit-forming cues, and a focus for your new quiet time. Identify the excuses that derail you and plan how to respond to them. Ask God to help you follow through. And then tomorrow, when you wake up, follow whatever plan you made. Pour your cereal and open the Bible. Come home from work and journal. Sit and pray for others before you get in bed. Whatever your game plan is, just do it. Get started, and adjust as you go.

And remember, you’re not alone. We all have to work on this. So get a friend to talk to. Or a roommate to remind you. And receive grace from God as you work to follow him. There’s plenty to go around.

Question: What usually hinders your ability to have a consistent quiet time? Which step will be most important for you?

In a startling display of mental alertness, I actually noticed something. Among all the Old Testament wars, demanding prophets, and tales of an astoundingly miraculous man, something keeps repeating. Or rather, someone keeps repeating Himself. Over and over he says the same thing: Come.

Come and see. Come back. Come to the water. Return to me with all your heart.

Come. Home.

One time I tried to run away from home. I was going to live in the woods and survive by stealing and hoarding food from my house. Though at seven years old it seemed like a brilliant plan, I didn’t last very long. It was cold. A few hours knocked some sense into me.

Sometimes I wish I were more like that with God. I wish I would run home at the slightest chill. It’s warm inside after all. But I don’t want him to know he was right…

In the face of our confused lives, scared hearts, and stubborn ideas of how things ought to go, God cries out to us.

This guy just doesn’t give up. If he wasn’t God, he might be kind of a stalker. But he’s actually a lot more like a parent, desperately searching for his lost child. He yells out the front door and off the back porch. He walks through the neighborhood and calls our name.

The problem is that we don’t want to be found. Running away from home is a big offense when you’re seven. And I was sure it wasn’t going to be pretty if I walked back in.

But when God calls to us, it’s not so he can punish us. It’s more like:

“All of you who are thirsty, come to the water!” -Isaiah 55:1

“Return, unfaithful Israel, declares the Lord. I won’t reject you, for I’m faithful.” -Jeremiah 3:12

“Return to the Lord your God, for he is merciful and compassionate, very patient, full of faithful love, and ready to forgive.” -Joel 2:13

“Return to me…and I will return to you” -Zechariah 1:3

“Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.” -Matthew 11:28

“All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never drive away.” -John 6:37

“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.” -Revelation 3:20

God cries out to the people he made. Over and over he calls: Just come home. Home to the one who takes care of us. The one who cares if we’re okay. Our Father who gave us life and wants to be part of it. Yes, he’s always right. And he doesn’t give us exactly what we want. But he’s also always good. Always love. And always there when we’re ready to come inside.

The ball’s in our court. We can wait out in the cold woods, wondering how to sneak some food. Or, we can go home.