Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Gentleness. Faithfulness. Self-Control. In just a couple of minutes, I was able to open my mouth and crush every single one of the attributes of the fruit of the Holy Spirit we Christians so often talk about. I immediately felt a pang of conviction and shame.

Don’t judge me. I bet you can relate. It only takes being alive to be a hypocrite some days. We all have done it. We read Scriptures and attend our religious services. We serve in religious organizations and bring our tithes and offerings into our houses of worship. We often counsel and teach our congregations. And then, one busy, stressful day, our children, spouses or parents push the wrong button at the wrong time and, in a matter of seconds, we manage to silence every song of praise from our lips, and deny, with our ugly actions or words, what we preach.

Years worth of work for the kingdom can be destroyed. A word can be engraved in our child’s mind and heart forever. We can drive a wedge that breaks our spouse’s trust. Although many times these actions are forgiven and the consequences aren’t irreparable, we are perceived as a fraud, even if for a moment.

I was recently reading through the Gospels and came across one of Jesus’ most chilling admonitions to the Pharisees and teachers of the law. In a speech that instantly made him the most hated man among the Jewish leaders of the day, he admonishes them for their hypocritical lifestyle. For leading others away from God with their actions. For loving religious rituals more than God, and for caring more about the appearance of goodness than about the condition of their hearts.

Although his rebuke was aimed at religious leaders, it gave me great pause. Because the last thing I want is to think that my family would see me as a hypocrite, even if for one moment. It makes me realize that it doesn’t matter how many books I write, or how many times I speak and teach God’s truths to a crowd. My religion is worth nothing if it doesn’t lead my household closer to God.

My religion must start with those I love the most first, as I make time to listen to the same not-so-interesting story, or stop typing to look at their eyes when they speak. It starts when I bite my tongue when I am too tired, too stressed out, or too hormonal, and choose to pray instead of impulsively speak.

My religion must start with those I love the most first
Click To Tweet

Indeed, I am convinced that my best days are not the ones when my website has the largest number of hits, my Facebook page has the most likes, or my tweets get re-tweeted more often.

My best day is any day I realize that my religion is perceived as skin deep, ask for forgiveness, and vow to change. It’s any day I am a living testimony of the grace that follows me when I need it, and forgives me when I stumble. It’s any day my life shows that I love God and people more than anything I could ever accomplish. More than the appearance of good. My best day may seem small and unfulfilling in the eyes of the world, but it’s any day my mouth and my hands are in sync, and their message is one and the same: Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Gentleness. Faithfulness. Self-Control.

Patricia Holbrook is a Christian author and national conference speaker. Her book, “Twelve Inches: Bridging
the Gap Between What You Know About God and How You Feel,” is available on Kindle, at Barnes and Nobles, Amazon and other retailers. 

The post Living Out What We Preach {Atlanta Journal Constitution Column} appeared first on Soaring With Him Ministries.

“My first desire is that my physicians alone must carry my coffin.” After a pause, he continued, “Secondly, I desire that when my coffin is being carried to the grave, the path leading to the graveyard be strewn with gold, silver and precious stones that I have collected in my treasury.” After resting for a few minutes, he continued: “My third and last wish is that both my hands be kept dangling out of my coffin.”

Alexander the Great had three dying wishes. At the age of 32, this man had conquered the world and had unimaginable prestige and wealth as the most powerful emperor of the ancient world. Yet, when he died, his wishes reflected the realization of a life filled with victories and empty in eternal significance: Doctors could not save him; his riches could only follow him as far as his grave; and lastly, he was leaving this world the same way he entered it: empty-handed.

Alexander is not alone in the long list of sanguine leaders, who conquered kingdoms and enforced their reign through war or manipulation throughout the centuries. From Ramesses II to Julius Caesar, from Cleopatra to Adolf Hitler, these men and women marked history and made their names immortal by defeating their enemies, subjecting nations to their reign, accumulating great wealth and living as if they would never die.

It seems as if Alexander’s dying remarks are the typical realization of most people on their death bed. One never hears of a dying man or woman wishing that they had accumulated more wealth… or found more prestige. You won’t hear a dying person wishing they had added another degree to their resume or that they had lived in a bigger house. Their regrets have nothing to do with their possessions. Dying regrets have to do with the things neglected while pursuing the biggest and greatest.

I have to wonder how different the world would be if we would live as if we were dying tomorrow. What if you had but a day on planet earth? Would you say goodbye to your child the same way you do every morning? Would you pray more? Love more? Forgive more? Would the economy still be an issue — or what is happening in the Middle East? Would you worry about what people think about you as much?

I didn’t think so.

These are the things in my heart as the sun shines on my keyboard as I type these words today: I am grateful for another day to live and for the people surrounding my life. No, my house is not perfect, and I am also often guilty of spending more time “conquering” than playing with my children. But I choose to live with the realization that life is but a vapor and each day is a gift from God. I want to learn to pause more often to look at the stars that He made, realizing that if He directs their orbit in perfect harmony, He is also directing my life. I want to hug more and fuss less. I want to learn to be content with fewer material things and seek to fill my cup with those things that rust and moth won’t destroy, nor thieves will ever steal.

Alexander’s hands and heart were empty as his casket descended to his resting place. May we learn to fill our hearts with eternal possessions — that our legacy may live on to the next generation, not as people whose feats are to be praised, but man and women whose faith in God and love and devotion to those around them cannot be forgotten.

The post My Latest AJC Column: A Dying Man’s Reflection On What Really Matters appeared first on Soaring With Him Ministries.