What does it look like when faith is awake and alive?
As far as I can tell, there isn't an easy answer: it's a question that resists easy categorization. There's no litmus test for us to deploy, no shibboleth we can trot out, and color-coded jerseys just aren't a practical option. Yet anyone who is active in the body of a church will likely sense on an intuitive level that there are those around them who are sharp, robust, and vigilant – in other words, awake – ...and those who aren't. These others are dull, unprepared, unreliable. In other words, asleep.
We can all feel it. The problem is real, and understanding this duality is crucial to the ongoing life and health of any church. Dallas Willard put it best when he said that every church needs to ask itself two questions: "What is our plan for making disciples, and is that plan working?" On a broad level, it's simple enough. Comfort is easy, and the Cross is hard. But identifying why this may be the case among otherwise mature believers isn't always so simple. It doesn't break down into easy data, and while our feelings and intuitions might be spot on, they can't be reliably cited. A vibes-based diagnosis is almost as bad as letting the disease go undiagnosed.
Identifying who we're discussing is also less simple than it may seem. Sure, we all have gut feelings we can point to; but just try and pin down some specifics and you'll find just how insufficient those are to form a robust definition of an undisciplined church that's coasting. I personally know men and women who are deeply committed members of their churches, who have regular devotional practices, who are theologically sharp and can quote the Reformers, Patristics, and Puritans, and who have access to the most esoteric scripture references with perfect recall... and who I wouldn't trust for a second to pray for me in a moment of crisis.
Alternatively, I know of others who are messy and broken, but who have a vibrant and effective faith. They may not possess the same breadth of knowledge, discipline towards devotional times, or even serve as much as some others; they are not always the most beautiful or articulate. They are not visibly gifted in leadership or possess vast wells of charisma. And yet their faith is living, vibrant, radiant, and awoken.
Now, no matter where we may be ourselves – however much maturity or wisdom we've acquired – it's crucial we always remember that we are never so far from these dangers ourselves that we can afford to point fingers without a great deal of self-examination first. So before your mind goes anywhere else, look to the mirror first. When it comes to complacency, the first person you should ever diagnose is yourself. I'm going to gently suggest that if you can't approach this topic without humility, patience, and gentleness, you probably don't have any business engaging in it.
So these are some questions to ask. What then is it that raises faith to life? What makes a faith vibrant, robust, vigilant, and sharp, full of vitality and transformative energy? Why do we see this faith in some Christians but not in others? How do we know when faith is asleep, and how then do we wake it up?
I don't propose to give any real definitions here. Those would be neither helpful nor wise, since none of us can actually judge the state of one another's hearts. (And what a mercy that is when we remember that others cannot judge our hearts either!) But we can all identify vibes and share in broad concerns, and we can agree to strike out in a direction when some small number of us feel that something really ought to be done.
So instead of erecting an ideological purity test, I propose that we examine ourselves and those around us by a simple application of three words found in Psalm 27. These three words, far from a purity test, provide us with practical categories by which we can interrogate our hearts and begin to define what a living, vibrant, and vigilant faith looks like. Instead of a critique, these provide a positive vision for what markers we should expect from an awoken faith. We will dwell, gaze, and inquire. Let Scripture now be our guide.
One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in his temple.
Psalm 27:4 ESV
DWELL
"...that I may dwell in the house of the Lord..."
Is your faith the dwelling kind, or is it often roving?
A faith that is living is patient, abiding on the vine through seasons both of springtime rain and dry summer heat. Awoken faith dwells in one place, committed through every circumstance to be rooted in the soil that it finds. It dwells because it trusts, and while the leaves may fall and the bark peel away, the living, unshakeable trunk of faith will always remain where the root system digs. Abiding faith is trusting faith. "I fear no foe with Thee at hand to bless / Ills have no weight, tears lose their bitterness / Where is thy sting death? Where grave thy victory? / I triumph still – abide with me."
Do you dwell?
Living faith practices contentment and contends against envy. It suffers well, it laments with hope, and it works with endurance, secure in the knowledge that it is rooted in an eternal identity. A dwelling faith digs deep for black earth and good soil, grows deep roots and strong limbs, abides contentedly knowing that the God they dwell with will be faithful to grow patient saplings into bright springtime growth. Faith that dwells is faith that endures through difficult seasons.
Faith that has fallen asleep is often roaming, searching for other idols when the pleasures of God withdraw for a time. It turns to other comforts when God is hard to be found. It grows dissatisfied when immediate rewards don't come. A sleeping faith is spiritually homeless, wandering forever but never rooted secure. It never digs deep, never plants a foundation; and so it never grows, never rises high, never builds anything more solid than a canvas tent or a gypsy leaf on the wind. When faith does not dwell, it doesn't endure through strong winds or eroding rains.
But those with faith that dwells will drink deeply from the fruit of the vine, and eat and feast without money or price. Faith that dwells is invincibly strong in Christ.
GAZE
"...to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord..."
Is your faith the kind that gazes, or does it quickly get bored?
A living faith yearns for the fulfillment of its identity as the Bride of Christ, longing for the wedding feast of the Lamb. Living, gazing faith is adoring and utterly captivated. It sees all of life through gospel-filtered glasses, unable to live except as referent to its heavenly Bridegroom. A gazing faith is fascinated with the ways of God, delighted in his precepts and character, and eager to seek and grow and follow "thou lovely source of true delight / that I unseen adore. / Unveil thy beauties to my sight / that I might love thee more."
Do you gaze?
Living faith sees God as indispensably lovely. It is captivated and infatuated with the heart of Christ and is fettered by its adoration of him. A gazing faith is a blushing faith, a fluttering-heart faith, a stammering and a stuttering faith whose heart is pounding and whose blood is rushing simply to gaze upon the One whose beauty has so completely magnetized us that our knees tremble and our mouths go dry. Faith that gazes is faith that falls in love.
A sleeping faith does not gaze. It is not captivated by God. It is bored with spiritual practice and may be more enamored with "practical" considerations. It may see God as useful, or true, probably correct, worthwhile to follow, socially pleasant, agreeable to a certain lifestyle, ethically compelling, civilizationally necessary; but it will not blush, because it does not gaze, and it is not wildly, madly, intimately caught up in that rapturous love that comes from a faith that is fully alive and fully awake.
But those with faith that gazes will yearn for the beauty of the Lord and hunger for the consuming fire of God's presence to ravish their hearts. Faith that gazes is utterly enamored with Christ.
INQUIRE
"...and to inquire in his temple."
Is your faith the inquisitive, transformative kind, or is it comfortable and sedentary?
Living faith is always growing. It inquires and self-examines and desires transformation for what it finds. Faith that is awake and alive recognizes that, far from perfect or even just "okay," it is in desperate need of salvation. It does not inquire idly, but because it seeks the transformative power of the gospel. Faith that inquires is crushed by its brokenness and yearns for the power of Christ to revivify its life. The song of an inquiring faith is to cry out for that "amazing grace, how sweet the sound / that saved a wretch like me. / I once was lost, but now I'm found / was blind but now I see."
Does your faith inquire?
Living faith recognizes that God has opinions on every aspect of your life. It submits to uncomfortable things when doing so would please God. Faith that lives might still have a comfort zone, but it's very happy to nail it to the cross when asked to. A faith that is alive and awake rises to every occasion, leaping to Christian action and devotion not out of a plodding sense of duty, but from the eager expectation that "a long obedience in the same direction" is the only metric that really matters. It obeys, even when obeying is hard. And it obeys eagerly.
Sleeping faith lives for its own comfort. It objects to disruption, quails away from necessary confrontation, and excuses the sedentary pattern of inaction that defines most of its existence. It conforms to its location, not transforming into something that will take up the challenge. A sleeping faith yearns for the chains of Egypt, where at least they ate meat and fruit as slaves, and bucks away from the desert's call to adventure, where there is dust unending, hunger gnawing, and pain unyielding... and yet also glory unimaginable. Sleeping faith resents the call to wakefulness, and pulls the covers back over its head.
But those with faith that inquires will find themselves transformed by an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, equipped with a power not theirs. Faith that inquires is faith that bursts up out of the grave.
But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 3:13-14 ESV
Dwell, gaze, inquire. Have you woken up yet?
Rub the sleepiness from your eyes, O Christian! Stretch your limbs and throw back the covers! Forget the warmth and comfort of your blankets and strain forward to the glory that lies ahead! You were not raised to life that you might go back to sleep. You were not torn from your grave in order to fall right back into bed.
No – you were raised to glory. You have been resurrected into a story of unimaginable beauty and brightness and excitement. Your salvation is the clarion trumpet call to adventure, a sweeping romance of dancing, battles, music, wine, and miracles. The gospel calls you to the best of every heroic story and of every grand and captivating vista. It is thrilling beyond measure and powerful beyond belief. Who could fall asleep in a story like the one our God is telling?
You are needed for the song. You were made for the dance. You are crucial for the adventure ahead. Your faith must be awake, and it must be alive. So dwell where your Father will be found. Gaze upon the Bridegroom in all of his beauty. And inquire after the Spirit's stirring in your heart, that you might hear him when he calls. You must be ready. You are not incidental to God's plan for this world's resurrection. You are God's plan.
Press on towards the goal. Is something behind you? Forget it. Is the goal ahead distant and blurry? Strain for it with everything you've got. We're running in the final stretch. Your legs and chest may burn, but you're so much closer to the finish line than you think.
Awake, O sleeper. You have to wake up if you're going to run.