Tools for Spiritual Growth

The first tool for spiritual growth

The first and perhaps most important tool for spiritual growth is self-reflection—the willingness to take an honest, compassionate, and transformative look inward.

Now, I know that may sound like a difficult assignment. For some people, looking inward feels uncomfortable. But self-reflection isn't about criticizing yourself or digging up reasons to feel guilty. It's simply taking a little time to ask, "Where am I right now?" and answering that question as honestly as you can.

It's like checking the instruments in the cockpit of an airplane. Before you can make any course corrections, you first need to know where you are. The same is true in our spiritual lives. Self-reflection helps us recognize where we've been, where we are today, and where we hope to go. It is one of the best ways I know to monitor and strengthen our spiritual attitude.

So how do we practice self-reflection?

For me, it begins with asking myself questions—not to pass or fail a test, but simply to become more aware. Here are some of the questions I return to again and again.

About my relationship with God...

• What kind of relationship do I have with God right now?
• Do I think about God only when I need something or want a problem solved?
• Do I picture God as someone who is waiting for me to fail, or as the loving presence who guides and strengthens my life?
• Do I recognize God as the source of the love and light that inspires my relationships with other people?

About the way I'm living...

• Am I living the kind of life I truly believe is right for me?
• What values are at the very center of the life I want to live?
• Am I becoming more like the person I hope to be?

About joy and gratitude...

• When was the last time I experienced deep, unrestrained joy? What brought that about?
• For what am I most grateful right now?
• Am I most grateful for the people in my life, for my health, for my possessions, or for something else?
• What blessing do I value most today?

About honesty...

• How honest am I willing to be with God?
• How honest am I willing to be with myself?
• How honest am I willing to be with the people who matter most to me?

As you reflect on questions like these, remember one very important principle.

Be honest, but don't be judgmental.

The purpose of self-reflection is not to hand down a verdict about yourself. It is simply to gather information. You're noticing your thoughts, your emotions, your priorities, your relationships, and your sense of connection with God. You're taking inventory—not assigning blame.

The moment we begin judging ourselves, we usually move in one of two unhealthy directions. We start criticizing ourselves, dwelling on our failures, and feeling discouraged. Or we move in the opposite direction and become self-righteous, convincing ourselves we've got everything figured out. Neither response helps us grow.

Instead, simply notice what you discover.

If you catch yourself making judgments, gently set them aside and return to being curious. Ask yourself, "What is this teaching me about where I am right now?"

There is no perfect way to practice self-reflection. There are no right or wrong answers. It is simply an opportunity to pause, take stock of your life, celebrate the good that is already there, recognize what may need to change, deepen your relationship with God, and remain open to the new possibilities that are waiting just ahead.

After all, we can't make meaningful course corrections until we first know where we are.

It is important to learn how to view life through a window instead of in a mirror.

The Toaster Kissing Parable

When I was growing up, my oldest sister went through a stage that the rest of the family found equal parts amusing and frustrating.

She was about four or five years old, and for reasons no one ever figured out, she absolutely loved kissing her own reflection. If she walked past a mirror, she'd stop and plant a big kiss right on the glass. Windows, polished furniture, shiny surfaces of any kind - if she could see her face in it, chances were good she'd leave a perfect little lip print behind.

Needless to say, my mother wasn't nearly as fascinated with those lip prints as my sister was.

We all assumed it was just one of those childhood phases that would eventually disappear on its own.

Then one morning, fate - and a brand-new toaster - intervened.

My mother was in the kitchen making breakfast. The toast popped up, and she reached over, took the slices out, and turned back to the counter.

A few moments later, my little sister wandered into the kitchen.

Then it happened.

From the other room we suddenly heard a scream that could have awakened the entire county.

Everyone came running.

There stood my sister with tears streaming down her face, clutching her mouth.

What had happened?

She had caught sight of her reflection in the shiny new aluminum toaster. Unfortunately, she chose to kiss it just seconds after the toast had come out.

Fortunately, she wasn't seriously hurt. Her lips healed quickly, and there were no lasting injuries.

But there was one permanent change.

From that day forward, her mirror-kissing career came to an abrupt and very successful end.

I tell that story because, over the years, I've come to believe that a lot of us have a little "toaster kisser" in us.

What I mean is this.

It's surprisingly easy to go through life seeing everything—including God—primarily through the reflection of ourselves. Our thoughts become centered on our own happiness, our own success, our own goals, our own disappointments, and our own needs. We spend a great deal of time asking, "What do I want? What do I need? How does this affect me?"

Now, that doesn't necessarily make us selfish or uncaring people. Most people genuinely want the best for their families, their friends, and the people around them.

But there is an important difference between caring for ourselves and becoming centered on ourselves.

When life revolves almost entirely around our own reflection, our spiritual vision begins to narrow. We find it harder to recognize God's presence, harder to appreciate the needs of others, and even harder to see ourselves as we really are. We begin looking at life in a mirror instead of through a window.

That's why I think "toaster kissing" can become a pretty lonely way to live. It's also unrealistic, because life was never intended to revolve around us. And, as my sister discovered, it can sometimes be painful when reality interrupts the reflection we've been admiring.

Please don't misunderstand what I'm saying.

Spiritual growth has everything to do with you. In fact, your relationship with God, with yourself, with other people, and with the whole created world is at the very center of the spiritual journey.

But spiritual growth is about discovering the real you - not the image you wish you projected, not the person you think everyone expects you to be, and not the distorted reflection created by fear, pride, guilt, or unrealistic expectations.

God isn't interested in loving an imaginary version of you.

God loves the person you already are.

And real spiritual growth begins the moment we stop staring at our reflection long enough to see ourselves through God's eyes. That's where we discover not only who we are, but who we are capable of becoming.

The second tool for spiritual growth is developing the ability to be still. 

One of the greatest challenges to spiritual growth today is simply that we're busy.

We live in a world filled with noise, schedules, deadlines, notifications, and endless distractions. From the moment we wake up until we finally fall into bed at night, something is demanding our attention. Before long, we can spend an entire day reacting to life without ever taking a moment to truly experience it.

In the middle of all that activity, it's very difficult to hear God's voice, to pay attention to what really matters, or even to notice what's happening inside us.

That's why it's so important to learn how to hit the pause button from time to time.

When we do, something remarkable happens. We create space for conversation with God. We regain a sense of balance. We begin to see life more clearly. And instead of simply racing through another day, we become more intentional about how we live it.

Without those moments of pause, spiritual growth can easily become just one more item on our already overcrowded to-do list. It becomes another task to complete instead of a way of living.

So the obvious question is, How do we find that kind of space?

Most people immediately answer, "I don't have time."

I understand that. I've said the same thing myself.

But over the years I've discovered something interesting. Much of our busyness isn't nearly as productive as we imagine it to be. We rush from one task to another, our minds racing ahead to the next thing we have to do, and by the end of the day we're exhausted—but not necessarily any more accomplished.

The constant sense of urgency actually works against us. Our minds become cluttered, our attention is scattered, and we end up using more energy while accomplishing less. And when our minds are that crowded, there's very little room left for spiritual awareness.

Every one of us needs moments of stillness.

Not hours. Sometimes just a few minutes will do.

We need opportunities to quiet that restless voice inside us that is always asking, "What's next? Are we there yet? What else needs to be done?"

Stillness isn't about doing nothing. It's about creating enough space for God to get a word in edgewise.

It's making room for inspiration instead of constant information.

It's allowing God to renew our perspective, restore our energy, and remind us of what is truly important before we plunge back into the demands of the day.

Notice that I'm not suggesting we withdraw from life in order to become spiritual. The goal isn't to escape the world. The goal is to bring a deeper spiritual awareness into the middle of the life we're already living.

To be still is to become more centered. To become more centered is to discover a deeper sense of peace. And peace, like any other spiritual quality, grows through practice.

The wonderful thing is that there isn't just one right way to practice stillness.

For some people it's prayer or meditation. For others it's reading an inspiring book, taking a walk through the woods, sitting beside the ocean, listening to beautiful music, watching a sunrise, or simply spending a few quiet moments before the rest of the world wakes up.

The activity itself isn't the important part.

What matters is that, for a little while, you step out of the noise and into a place where your heart can become quiet enough to recognize God's presence.

Those moments of stillness may seem small, but over time they have a remarkable way of bringing balance to our lives, deepening our spiritual awareness, and helping us become the people we are created to be.

The third tool for spiritual growth is the willingness to be open to possibilities and opportunities that God provides.

Earlier, I suggested that our purpose in life is to live in healthy spiritual and physical relationships—with God, with other people, and with the whole created universe. As we grow into those relationships, we begin to experience the very things most of us are searching for: fulfillment, wholeness, peace, joy, and a deep sense of contentment.

I also suggested that we were never created to live disconnected lives. We aren't meant to make our way through the world isolated from one another or from God. We are created for connection, and it is within those life-giving relationships that we become the people we were created to be.

If that's true - and I'm convinced that it is - then God and we are moving toward the same destination.

God desires for us the very things we long for ourselves.

Now, that doesn't mean life suddenly becomes easy or free from problems. It doesn't mean we won't experience disappointment, loss, conflict, illness, or grief. Those things are simply part of being human.

What it does mean is that our struggles are not meant to define us.

They are part of our story, but they are not the whole story.

One of the greatest obstacles to experiencing the life God offers is that we live in a culture that constantly teaches us to expect the opposite. Everywhere we turn, we're reminded to prepare for the worst, assume the worst, and protect ourselves from the worst.

Our culture often treats joy as the exception rather than the expectation.

It tells us that if we happen to experience real peace, lasting contentment, or genuine happiness, we should consider ourselves lucky because those moments are few and far between. The "normal" state of life, we're told, is stress, conflict, disappointment, and struggle.

So we become conditioned to live on guard.

We expect something to go wrong.

We brace ourselves for bad news.

We spend an enormous amount of emotional energy trying to protect ourselves from problems that may never happen.

Many years ago I attended a sales seminar where the instructor made a statement I've never forgotten. He said, "If you can tap into a person's fear or their greed, you can convince them to buy almost anything."

At the time, I remember thinking, That's a pretty cynical view of human nature.

But the longer I've lived, the more I've realized there is at least a grain of truth in it.

Think about the advertisements we see every day. Many of them are built around fear.

"What if you lose your job?"

"What if your investments fail?"

"What if someone breaks into your house?"

"What if you get sick?"

Others appeal to our desire for more.

"You deserve this."

"You'll be happier if you own this."

"Your life will finally be complete when..."

Fear and desire are powerful motivators.

The problem is that neither one is a very good foundation for a healthy spiritual life.

God doesn't invite us into a relationship built on fear or endless striving for more. God invites us into a relationship built on love, trust, hope, and the confidence that life is far richer than our fears would have us believe.

That's why spiritual growth requires us to learn a different way of looking at life. Instead of asking, "What should I be afraid of today?" we begin asking, "Where is God already at work? What opportunities for love, kindness, growth, and hope are waiting for me today?"

Those two questions lead us in completely different directions.

The Black Dot Exam

One of the most memorable lessons I learned studying pastoral counseling in graduate school came from a psychology professor, and it didn't begin with a lecture. It began with a test.

When we arrived for class one day, each of us found a sheet of paper on our desk. In the middle of the page was a single black dot, about the size of a pencil eraser. That was it.

The instructions were simple:

"Write an essay explaining this picture in as much detail as possible."

We all looked at one another, wondering if we were missing something. Surely there had to be more to the assignment than a tiny black dot in the middle of a blank page.

But there wasn't.

So we all did the best we could. We wrote about the black dot. We analyzed it. We speculated about what it represented. We tried to make something profound out of something that, at least to us, didn't seem very profound at all.

I honestly don't remember what I wrote, but I'm fairly certain it was long, complicated, and probably not nearly as insightful as I hoped.

The next day the professor walked into class, smiled, and announced that every one of us had failed the exam.

That certainly got our attention.

Then he explained why.

Every single one of us had written about the tiny black dot.

Not one of us had written about the enormous white space surrounding it.

Then he said something I've never forgotten.

He reminded us that most of the people we would someday counsel would be doing exactly the same thing in their lives. They would become so focused on their problems - their "black dots" - that they would lose sight of the vast "white space" surrounding those problems. They would become so consumed by what was wrong that they could no longer see what was still right. They would overlook the opportunities, resources, relationships, strengths, and possibilities that were available to help them move through their difficulties.

In other words, they would begin to believe that the black dot was the whole picture.

Isn't that true for many of us?

A problem appears in our lives, and before long it fills our entire field of vision. We become so focused on what isn't working that we stop noticing everything that is. We convince ourselves that because one part of life is difficult, all of life must be difficult.

We start living in what my professor called a "black dot world."

That's one of the reasons I believe openness to God's possibilities is such an essential part of spiritual growth.

God never promises us a life without black dots.

Problems, disappointments, losses, and struggles are part of every human life.

But God does promise something just as important.

God continually places before us opportunities for healing, wisdom, courage, hope, forgiveness, new beginnings, and unexpected possibilities. Those opportunities are often much larger than the problems themselves, but we have to be willing to look beyond the black dot to see them.

That's where spiritual awareness makes all the difference.

The more deeply we learn to trust God's presence, the easier it becomes to recognize the "white space" that has been there all along. We begin to notice possibilities where we once saw only obstacles. We discover strength we didn't know we possessed. We recognize people God has placed in our lives to help us. We begin to see doors opening where we once believed there were only walls.

The black dot doesn't disappear.

But it no longer defines the picture.

And that's one of the greatest gifts of spiritual growth. It doesn't eliminate life's problems. It teaches us to see that God's possibilities are always larger than our problems—and that there is far more white space than black dot.

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