Someone once told me:

“You’re just a little local pastor at a tiny nowhere church — what do YOU know?”

I wish I could tell you I recovered quickly from this one and made all kinds of God-declarations like “He uses the smallest of us in ways we can’t see” and that I remembered I was uniquely handcrafted by God to serve my corner of the universe.

But I didn’t do this. I was devastated.

I believed what the guy said over what God says.

A little local pastor at a tiny nowhere church.  So what do I know?

The guy was right.  The truth is, I really am a nobody pastor at a tiny nowhere church.  I’ve hardly preached to a crowd of over one-hundred.  I have a modest little podcast and this blog with a few followers, and that’s it. I really don’t know much.

Do you know who else feels this way?

Well, pretty much everyone.

It’s easy to feel like you’re the only guy who God has overlooked, that somehow God can’t see you, that He’s not opening doors for you, that He’s not giving you the “big break.”

I’m guessing the megachurch pastor down the street is choked by the same insecurities.  He might have a larger scale — “I haven’t even published a book yet, we only had 800 people last week” — but I can guarantee he’s struggling with the same self-condemning loop in his head.

Your Sunday service could’ve been drowned in musical failures, sermon misfires, and the ordinary small-town drama.  A Bible study didn’t land and the kid’s service was a trainwreck.  You’re not sure if anyone else is growing, including yourself. 

I got to thinking: this is all a pretty ridiculous amount of pressure we put on ourselves.  And for what?  Sure, we’re called to grow our churches and be effective and reach out to the city — but if our motive is to go from a little known Christian to a better known Christian, then it doesn’t matter if we succeed anyway.  An effective church is not everything; a faster donkey is still a jackass.

Really everything that God says about you is true, no matter what’s happening around you.  You truly are a unique handcrafted masterpiece who has been placed by God to be engaged and present where you are. 

If you’re teaching five people at a Bible study, if you have twenty followers on your blog, if your church hasn’t grown past fifty, and if you don’t even have a book published yet — you are still a vehicle for God to flex His power as a force for good in the universe.  God is still in the business of using weak, frail, broken, empty, unknown people for His glorious story on the earth.  If God spoke through a jackass, certainly He can work through you and me.

I can’t tell you how many times I thought I bombed a sermon, messed up a song, or fumbled a Bible study — but God graciously sowed that seed anyway, even days and weeks and years later.  We don’t hear about the other end very often, but when we do, it is nothing short of God’s miraculous power. 

He is sowing.  He is sovereign.  He is doing His wildly wonderful work in you, not by the flip of a switch, but by the journey of a seed pushing through the dirt into the warmth of sunlight.

And if you still feel like no one knows you — God does.

If you feel like you know nothing — God knows you.

If God alone is not enough when you’re not successful, then nothing will be enough even when you do have success.

Serve that tiny place.  Be okay behind the scenes.  We need the unsung heroes.  We need you.

— J.S.

First off, thank you for being such an encouragement through your posts! I understand that when dating, the physical boundaries are different (to a degree) for each relationship, but what are some ways to figure out what those physical boundaries should be?

Dear friend, please brace yourself a bit.

Seriously, spoiler alert. 

Ready?

I make out with my girlfriend.

I know, I know.  Gross.  I’m a Christian (gasp), a pastor (gasp!), and a Christian blogging pastor (Futurama gasp!!), and I am probably giving you the wrong idea. 

Please understand I am NOT condoning this for you.  What is okay for me might not work for you, and vice versa.  But I feel like Christians never admit this sort of stuff, and I’m waiting for the day John Piper or John MacArthur talk about how tough it was to keep their nasty sweaty sixteen-year-old hands off their wives-to-be — because you know, it would be nice to know we’re all human beings.

So with that out of the way, please allow me the grace to break down a few things.

1) Physical boundaries cannot be merely to limit something, but to lead to something greater.  If you’re only concerned about how to avoid things, then your focus is an anti-state of negativity.  This will never work.  There has to be some kind of direction forward and a bigger picture.

2) There is way more to a relationship than your sexuality.  I know it’s really difficult to keep your hands off each other, but one day your hormones will burn out anyway.  If your relationship is wrapped up in either super-purity or hyper-chemistry, then it won’t be grounded in anything real.

3) A relationship focused on purity is bound to fail.  If you think staying “pure” is tough, you don’t know the half of it. 

There’s also: communication, speaking encouragement, praying with and for each other, sharing Scripture, staying intimate with God, graciously rebuking, spiritually guiding, having date night and enjoying one another, finding a stable church, serving in ministry as a team, getting on the same page, financial unity, aligning visions, aligning convictions, settling disagreements, learning how to fight well, handling extended family members, raising other human life-forms, staying faithful, staying friends, and dying together.  Physical boundaries are important before marriage: but they’re nowhere near the top priority.

4) Purity is a virtue given by God, not achieved by you.  I understand our need to stay “pure” and all the cultural stigma with impurity: but no one is really pure.  Yes, we can fight for it, but no, it is not a grade of your human value or identity.

5) You already know your physical boundaries.  When most people ask me, “How far can I go?” — they’re already asking the wrong question.  You and I know the motive behind it.  It’s like when a kid puts his hand in your face and says, “I’m not touching you!”  They’re still being an annoying punk.

I think if you search your heart on this, even without consulting God (which you should), then you know what’s best for you.  I think you have a good idea of what you want for your kids.  You know at which point you become a mindless monster.  You know what needs to change.  You know that if you cross a certain line before marriage, the relationship can change into an impersonal, flesh-dumping receptacle. 

I don’t mean to be so crude or prude: but nearly everyone who asks “how far” is just playing dumb.  I want to give you some credit here and suggest that you are smart enough to know where to draw the line. 

More than that, I believe we’re smart enough to know that drawing a line is only one part of the whole thing.  Certainly, we must consider a battle plan to fight off sin: but the entire point is to run towards Him.

I’ll also add: If you’ve already crossed the line, God still has grace for you.  You’re not “dirty” or “ruined” or “once a cheater, always a cheater.”  You are not your past and you are not what’s been done to you. God loves you regardless.

I’m friends with those who have been raped (I refuse to call them “rape victims”) who feel like it’s their fault; I’ve talked with sex addicts who think there’s no hope; I myself was a porn addict for fifteen years — and God has grace for all of us.  He restores all the broken pieces.  He heals the wounds and He makes things new.  He is the one who “gives life to the dead and calls things that are not as though they were” (Romans 4:17).  No one is outside the gracious powerful sovereignty of God.

If you’re in a relationship now where you’ve broken a boundary, it is not too late.  Make a plan, get accountability, and pray for a vision moving forward.  Serve together and get on God’s mission and draw to the heart of Jesus.  It’s okay if you decide to take a break or break up or fast from one another for a while.  Whatever you decide: cling to Christ.  You’ll make it through.

— J.S.