Jesus, Reset My Mind
Notes
Transcript
I Am What I Think About
Core Truth
The best part of spending time with Jesus is that we get to know him. As we learn to focus on Jesus, we can’t help but become more like him—more self-aware, more confident, more self-controlled, more content.
Key Scripture
I“One thing I ask from the Lord,
this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the Lord
and to seek him in his temple.” —Psalm 27:4
Setup
WELCOME TO PART two in our series, Reset: Jesus Changes Everything. We kicked off this series last week, and if you were here, you’ll recall that I said we are centering each of our times together on something of a prayer, that Jesus would “reset” our hearts—which was last week’s topic—and then our minds, which is what we’ll talk about today. From there, we’ll pray, “Jesus, reset our voice.” And, “Jesus, reset our hands.”
Series Goal
To “reset” something is to restore it to its original design. To set something back to its original purpose, its original intent. And so for these weeks, we will be looking at how to have our inner worlds reset, such that we find the satisfaction, the fulfillment, the “life that is truly life” that Paul speaks about in 1 Timothy 6:19. We’re working toward a reset of the soul, if you will, and I’m especially happy you are here today, because so much of our soul’s health begins in the mind. With our thoughts. With the synapses that are firing in and through our brains moment by moment, all day long.
Key Scripture
To focus our thoughts as we dive in, let me read to you from another of David’s writings. Last week we looked at Psalm 24; this week, I’d like to turn our attention to Psalm 27, and specifically verses 3 and 4. They read:
“Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then I will be confident. One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lordall the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple.” —Psalm 27:3–4
Now, David was speaking here about literal, physical armies and literal, physical wars, and while some of us may have had the experience of battling actual adversaries, far more likely is the scenario of experiencing battles of the mind. This is, after all, where every struggle begins—with a dark thought. A thought of despair. A thought of fear. A thought of inadequacy. A thought of greed. A thought of hopelessness. A thought of hatefulness. A thought of haughtiness. A thought of rage.
This is the army that besieges us day by day, line after line of armed soldiers marching through our minds, just dying to pick a fight. To which Jesus says, “Bring it on.”
Establishing Story
Can I show you how this plays out? This war between evil thoughts and the One to whom all things—evil thoughts included—must bow down?
Please turn to Mark 5, where we’ll begin with verse 1. I’m reading from The Message:
“They arrived on the other side of the sea in the country of the Gerasenes. As Jesus got out of the boat, a madman from the cemetery came up to him. He lived there among the tombs and graves. No one could restrain him—he couldn’t be chained, couldn’t be tied down. He had been tied up many times with chains and ropes, but he broke the chains, snapped the ropes. No one was strong enough to tame him. Night and day he roamed through the graves and the hills, screaming out and slashing himself with sharp stones.
“When he saw Jesus a long way off, he ran and bowed in worship before him—then bellowed in protest, ‘What business do you have, Jesus, Son of the High God, messing with me? I swear to God, don’t give me a hard time!’ (Jesus had just commanded the tormenting evil spirit, ‘Out! Get out of the man!’)
“Jesus asked him, ‘Tell me your name.’
“He replied, ‘My name is Mob. I’m a rioting mob.’ Then he desperately begged Jesus not to banish them from the country.
“A large herd of pigs was browsing and rooting on a nearby hill. The demons begged him, ‘Send us to the pigs so we can live in them.’ Jesus gave the order. But it was even worse for the pigs than for the man. Crazed, they stampeded over a cliff into the sea and drowned.
“Those tending the pigs, scared to death, bolted and told their story in town and country. Everyone wanted to see what had happened. They came up to Jesus and saw the madman sitting there wearing decent clothes and making sense, no longer a walking madhouse of a man.
“Those who had seen it told the others what had happened to the demon-possessed man and the pigs. At first they were in awe—and then they were upset, upset over the drowned pigs. They demanded that Jesus leave and not come back.
“As Jesus was getting into the boat, the demon-delivered man begged to go along, but he wouldn’t let him. Jesus said, ‘Go home to your own people. Tell them your story—what the Master did, how he had mercy on you.’ The man went back and began to preach in the Ten Towns area about what Jesus had done for him. He was the talk of the town.” (verses 1–20)
Don’t you love that last line? “He was the talk of the town.” Yeah, I bet he was. Can you imagine if this happened here in our town? [Pastor, play this out a little with specifics from your area, citing where the madman may have lived, which news team would have been on the scene first, what they would have reported, and who in your city would have had strong opinions on just what to make of the whole deal.]
I opted for The Message version of this story because of one simple phrase that Eugene Peterson’s transliteration included. It’s up there in verse 15 and says that after Jesus’s intervention, after Jesus offered a reset of the mind, the troubled individual was, and I quote, “no longer a walking madhouse of a man.”
I wonder how many of us can relate to that description.
I wonder how many of us have lived that description. Continue to live it today, even.
A walking madhouse of a man.
A walking madhouse of a woman.
A walking madhouse of a teen.
A mom.
A dad.
A student.
A friend.
A daughter.
A son.
A businessperson.
A doctor.
A realtor.
A teacher.
An athlete.
A spouse.
When errant, evil thoughts plague our minds, “a walking madhouse” of a person is exactly how we feel, isn’t it?
Think about it: In a madhouse, the scene is characterized by mayhem and chaos, by turmoil, by distress and disorder, by the sense of utter pandemonium. We talk about things here in terms of “being a zoo” or “a three-ring circus.” Or of “all hell having broken loose.”
Quite literally, the mind that has not been reset is having hell break loose in it even now.
The Link to Us Today
Today, there is a young woman in Houston who believes she is worthless, hopeless, and fat. She is nineteen years old. When she was eight years old, unbeknownst to her parents, the father of a neighbor friend took advantage of her naiveté, her innocence, her proximity. The encounter didn’t last long, but the effects did. Not knowing where to turn for help, she turned inward, stuffing her secret deep, hoping nobody would ever know. She had been used and then tossed aside, a message that struck—and then misshaped—her soul. “I’m worthless,” her inner voice began repeating. “I’m a throw-away.” “I’m hopeless.” And eventually, after turning to junk-food binges for solace for years on end, “I’m fat.”
Today, another nineteen-year-old woman, this one in Chicago, believes that the idea of God is nothing more than a cruel joke. Of course he doesn’t exist. And even if he did, how could he love someone like her? For so many years, she was told that she was the reason her mother suffered from severe depression, that if she, the young woman, hadn’t been born, things would have been easier on the mom. Sometimes the mom would convey these things on the way to church, which was part of the family’s every-weekend routine. How could her mother scorn her one minute and then sing praises to God the next? God was a joke. Life was a joke. The tequila? The cocaine? The serial hookups with guys she barely knew? The cutting . . . so much cutting over the years . . . it was all just a way to silence the too-loud voices: “You’re a burden. You’re the problem. You’re the reason things have worked out so badly—both for your mom and for you.”
Today in Texas there is a man in his seventies who was diagnosed ten years ago with type 2 diabetes. He thinks about that diagnosis every night, late at night, after his wife has gone to bed, while he sits quietly, stealthily, in the living room, in front of the blue glow of one crime drama or another, stuffing himself full with whatever sugary fix he can find—cookies, ice cream, cake, donuts, crackers, bowl after bowl after bowl of Frosted Flakes. “What’s the use in trying to change my habits now?” he reasons. “I’m doomed to a diseased life.”
Today, a twentysomething living in San Francisco is charting a new course for his life, this one in an overtly gay community. He moved here recently from Colorado, where his family still resides. It was too conservative there, he told them, as he took a job in California and moved out. The pain of his life has been real: His older sister died after enduring more than a decade-long battle with congenital brain issues; his parents nearly divorced over the family’s grief, causing his dad to contemplate suicide at least twice—that he knew about, anyway; he had turned to drugs for relief but was left addicted and more hopeless than he’d been before; rehab had been awful, the first time and again the second. “Life is out to get me,” he had said to his counselor once, words he deeply, resolutely believes.
Today, a fifty-five-year-old man is catching yet another flight, bound for yet another speaking engagement. He is determined to reinvent himself after leaving a pastoring role he’d held for two decades’ time. His marriage feels rocky, his three children are grown and don’t need him like they used to, and his “friendships” were all based on the power he held at the church. What now? He thinks about that question a lot. What now, for someone who, according to his inner voice, is “past his prime, not needed or wanted by loved ones, and a little aimless these days, truth be told.”
Today, a woman in her sixties fights back tears as she catches sight of a young mom with her newborn in the grocery store. Her own son, when he was twenty-one, died in a rock-climbing accident, and his brother, now thirty years old, is still single. The grief of burying her child was overwhelming, but the grief of not having grandchildren, when all of her friends have grandchildren to spare, is figuring to be even worse. “Your son died, and now your dreams have died too,” she catches herself thinking, more days than she cares to admit. “You are destined for death.”
Today, a mom of three pours herself a glass of wine after work, her third so far. “Just a way to unwind,” she reasons silently. “The alcoholism that runs in my family? It hasn’t affected me.”
Today, a couple prepares to say goodbye to each other, ahead of his nine-month deployment to Iraq. She is pregnant with their fifth child, a surprise that might have been a source of happiness for some families. For them? It was devastating news. His recent diagnosis with depression. Her struggles to keep the house afloat and homeschool the four children they already have. His detachment from the marriage. Her skepticism about whether even God can glue back together the fragments and shards she fears are splintered beyond repair. “Things just keep getting worse,” she told a confidant recently. “Things are always going to get worse.”
Today, a wife heads off to her Al-Anon meeting, her sign of support for her addicted husband who has relapsed . . . again. She would blame him for the struggles their family of five is facing, except that her own behavior—time after time, finding satisfaction in other men’s arms—indicts her. Her three girls are starting to suffer in ways she isn’t sure she can manage. “I should just leave,” she says to herself. “This thing is hopeless, hopeless, hopeless.”
Stretch beyond the borders of this country, and today, there are men, women, guys, girls, in every country on the planet wondering how they’re going to make it, how they’re going to survive this latest turn of events, how they’re ever going to matter to anyone, what life is going to look like for them, if they even make it past today.
“It’s over,” they are saying to themselves.
“I’ve tried everything.”
“It’s beyond repair.”
“Nothing will work.”
Closer to home—much, much closer to home—there is us. You and me, here in this room, wondering how in the world we can go on. For some of us, this isn’t the case today. Today is jubilation. Celebration. Relief.
But for others of us? It’s not that at all.
It’s struggle. Turmoil. Hopelessness. Helplessness. Pain.
[Pastor, insert 2–3 brief examples from your own life or the lives of those in your congregation to substantiate the point.]
In our thought life, anyway, all hell has broken loose. In the deepest part of us, we’re longing for heaven, even as hell seems to be breaking loose.
We’re walking madhouses of women and men.
The Rest of the Story
Let me draw us back to the madman of our feature scene today, there in the first twenty verses of Mark, chapter 5.
Do you remember what the walking madhouse of a man did, upon realizing that one Jesus was nearby?
Verse 6: “When he [the madman] saw Jesus a long way off, he ran and bowed in worship before him.”
Despite the maddening realities he faced—in his mind, and therefore in his body and spirit too—he rushed toward, not away from, the Messiah, and he lowered himself in submission to the King.
See, this is why week 1 of this series had to precede week 2, because until our faith is reset from faith-in-self to faith-in-Jesus, all other resets elude us, including the one we are focused on today, the reset of the mind.
Until we realize that Jesus is near—and he is near to us today, you know . . .
Until we rush toward Jesus and bow down in worship, surrendering our self-made propensities and plans . . .
Until we allow him to reset our faith—“I can’t fix what is wrong with me, apart from your power, Lord!” . . .
Until these things happen in our lives, we will continue to see war waged in our minds. We will continue to need a reset.
Key Takeaways
What to do, what to do. These debilitating thoughts are real, aren’t they? Of course they are real. They are real, and their effects are real. Most times, they feel more real than even the realities we are actually facing. The fear feels more real than the admittedly tough situation actually is. The stress feels more real than the admittedly tough circumstances actually are. The hopelessness feels more real than the admittedly tough relational strain really is.
We so quickly buy into the lies Satan is peddling, don’t we, that it’s unbearable, it’s over, it’s hopeless, we should just give up.
Too many times, that’s just what we do. We throw in the towel and give up.
Even as Jesus says, “Psst. There’s another way.”
Can I give you two considerations, regarding that “other way” Jesus offers us?
The first one is this: We would do well to remember that we can only think one thought at a time.
Have you ever considered this? You can only think one thought at a time. Regardless of how smart you are, how savvy you are, or what a stellar multitasker you are, you can only think one thought at a time. Which carries powerful implications, as it relates to our topic at hand. Because if you and I are thinking a noble thought, we can’t simultaneously be thinking an ignoble one.
If you and I are thinking a life-giving thought, we can’t also be thinking a life-sucking one.
If we are thinking a pure thought, we can’t also be thinking an impure one.
You see where I’m headed here.
If the young woman in Houston is thinking that she might just be worth something, she can’t also be thinking that she’s worthless.
If the ice-cream-loving Texas man is thinking that healthfulness might just be within reach, he can’t also be thinking he’s doomed forever to disease . . . at least not at the very same time.
If the wife headed to Al-Anon is thinking that because of Jesus’s resurrection, we as his followers are born into a “living hope,” a hope that is forever alive, as 1 Peter 1:3 promises, then she can’t simultaneously be thinking that her situation is hopeless, hopeless, hopeless.
She can think both of those thoughts. Of course she can. She just can’t think them at the very same time.
We do well to remember that we can only think one thought at a time.
Which brings me to my second consideration: Choose for just one thought to think something good.
In 2 Corinthians 10, the apostle Paul, writing to the church at Corinth, says this:
“
For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds.
“We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” (verses 3–5).
In his letter to the church at Philippi, Paul writes this:
“
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things” (Philippians 4:8).
Take your thought life captive, Paul says. Don’t let thoughts roam through your mind unattended. Seize them! Hold them captive! Demand that they comply! And then this: Fill your mind with true, excellent thoughts, so that all evilness will be eclipsed.
Have a listen to Nick’s take on this idea.
[Pastor, play video “Week 2: Reset My Mind.”]
Yes! Jesus wants to reset our minds! He wants to teach us how to think pure thoughts.
You are loved!
You are forgiven!
You are valuable!
You are not condemned!
The reason Jesus wants to reset our thinking is that once we start internalizing this stuff—“I am loved! I am forgiven! I am valuable! I am not condemned!”—we can radically change the world, in his name. When we see that we are priceless creations of the most high God, we start treating everyone else like they matter too. Do you see why our thought life matters? We treat others the way that we feel about ourselves. If we are richly blessed, irrationally loved, and divinely purposed, do you think that posture will affect how we see everyone else? You better believe it will.
And so, we start here. With one simple thought. I am loved.
Or this one: I am enough.
I am seen.
I am victorious.
I matter to God.
Hope is not lost.
Hope is here, nearby.
This stuff will change your life.
You want more? I’ll give you more. Here’s step three. Step one: Keep in mind that you can only think one thought at a time. Step two: Choose just for this one thought to think something good. And step three: After that first good thought, think another one. I dare you! Think two true thoughts in a row.
This speaks to Billy Graham’s point that Nick mentioned: You fill up your Jesus tank day by day, and you’ll have reserves to draw from. When you fill your mind with God’s truth, true thoughts will come to mind as you go about your day.
This won’t come naturally at first, I will assure you. But over time, your efforts will pay huge dividends.
Closing Illustration
You know, more than a century ago, two neurologists were studying the effects of the brain on the body—in other words, they wanted to know how what we think impacts how we are. This happened to be in the days when women wore huge hats, the kind with fancy feathers on top that added a good ten inches to a woman’s overall height.
The researchers noticed that when women who typically wore these massive constructions were walking through doors, they would duck, even if they didn’t have on a hat that day. “Their mental self was wearing the hat,” the researchers noted, “even if their physical self wasn’t.”[1]
Of note for us, as we think about resetting our minds, our thoughts, I want to encourage you to give yourself some grace as you step through future “doors.” As you allow Jesus to reset your thoughts from self-defeating to victorious, from those centered on worthlessness and despair to those centered on pricelessness and hope, you will surely catch yourself “ducking” from time to time. You’ll forget you no longer have on the hat of self-condemnation, of self-denigration, of depression and misery and angst, and instinctively, your chin will drop, your shoulders will slouch, your posture will curve, and you’ll make room for that old hat to clear the jamb. That old hat that is no longer on your head. My encouragement to you? Stay the course.
Here’s why: Romans 12:2 confirms that the path to genuine spiritual transformation—in other words, the radically reset life—is paved by one thing, and one thing alone: the renewing of our minds. When we think different thoughts, we will be different people, guaranteed.
I want this reset, don’t you? I want to think different thoughts, starting today.
If you do too, join me as we pray, and then meet me over at the Reset prayer wall where we will post our pleas before the only One who can meet those needs. [Pastor, provide further explanation and directions to your congregation regarding the Reset prayer wall, as needed.]
Call to Action and Prayer
“Father, here we are, your children, in need of you. We need your presence, your power, your wisdom, and your love. We need your reminder for how to live the life that is truly life. True life . . . that’s what we are after here. True life and true thoughts. May we lean into what you say about us, Father, and cast aside the myriad opinions from others about who we are, where we’ve been, and what we’re worth.
“Help us leave the madness behind, God. Help us receive the healing, the beauty, the courage, the confidence, the reset we find in you. In Jesus’s name we pray, amen.”
[1] Laura Starecheski, “Why Saying Is Believing—The Science of Self-Talk,” NPR, October 7, 2014, http://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2014/10/07/353292408/why-saying-is-believing-the-science-of-self-talk.