Why the Lord Calls Us to Holiness

Holiness, Intimacy, and the End of Escapism

There are moments when the Lord begins to show me that I have understood one of His commands too narrowly.

Holiness is one of those places.

For years, many of us have heard holiness preached almost entirely in terms of what we must stop doing.

Do not go there.

Do not touch that.

Do not think that.

Do not become like the world.

Do not compromise.

Do not cross the line.

And certainly, holiness does involve separation from sin. Scripture could not be clearer about that.

But the longer I walk with the Lord, the more convinced I become that if I understand holiness only as restriction, I have missed the heart of God.

God is not merely trying to keep me from something.

He is protecting something.

He is protecting fellowship.

He is protecting intimacy.

He is protecting the very reason I was created.

I believe humanity’s first and greatest calling was not ministry.

It was not preaching.

It was not evangelism.

It was not leadership.

It was not building churches.

It was not performing signs and wonders.

It was not accomplishing great things for God.

Before any of those things existed, there was fellowship.

There was God and humanity walking together.

There was a garden.

There was presence.

There was relationship.

There was nothing between God and man.

And I increasingly believe that everything God calls us into—including holiness—is ultimately connected to restoring and protecting that fellowship.

When I hear the words,

“Be ye holy; for I am holy,”

I do not primarily hear an angry God shouting from a distance.

I hear the voice of a Father saying:

Come closer.

You were created for Me.

You were created to know Me.

You were created to walk with Me.

And I know what will damage that relationship before you do.

That changes everything.

Holiness Is Not God Taking Life Away From Us

One of the oldest lies ever introduced to humanity is the suggestion that God is withholding something good.

That was the serpent’s strategy in Eden.

God has placed a boundary here.

Therefore, perhaps God is keeping something from you.

Perhaps freedom exists outside the boundary.

Perhaps fulfillment exists outside obedience.

Perhaps life would be better if you could simply step beyond what God has said.

Humanity believed the lie then, and humanity still believes variations of it now.

Whenever God says no, the flesh tends to wonder what it is missing.

But God sees the entire road.

I see the invitation.

He sees the destination.

I see the pleasure.

He sees the bondage.

I see the moment.

He sees what that moment becomes after years of feeding it.

And because He loves me, He speaks.

God’s boundaries are not evidence that He wants less for me.

Very often they are evidence that He sees more than I do.

Every boundary protects something.

When God tells us to guard our hearts, He is protecting something.

When He speaks about sexual purity, He is protecting something.

When He commands forgiveness, He is protecting something.

When He warns us about greed, pride, bitterness, deception, lust, jealousy, hatred, and self-will, He is protecting something.

Ultimately, He is protecting our capacity for unhindered fellowship with Him.

Sin does more than violate a rule.

Sin teaches us to hide.

That was the immediate result in Eden.

When God came near, humanity hid.

Think about how tragic that is.

The very beings created to enjoy God’s presence became afraid of the presence for which they had been made.

That is what sin does.

It makes us hide from the One we were created to run toward.

Holiness says:

I do not want anything in my life that makes me hide from God.

I do not want anything that dulls my spiritual hearing.

I do not want anything that makes prayer uncomfortable.

I do not want anything that forces me to continually justify what the Holy Spirit is asking me to surrender.

Not because I am trying to prove myself righteous.

Because I treasure fellowship.

We Can Be Physically Alive and Spiritually Asleep

Paul writes in Ephesians:

“Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.”

Those words trouble me in a good way.

They are addressed to living people.

Breathing people.

Functioning people.

People going through daily life.

And yet Paul speaks to them as though they may be asleep among the dead.

That makes me ask a difficult question.

Can I be alive, breathing, living my daily life, and yet be dead to the call to holiness?

I believe the answer is yes.

I can be alive to entertainment.

Alive to money.

Alive to recognition.

Alive to travel.

Alive to relationships.

Alive to ambition.

Alive to comfort.

Alive to social media.

Alive to ministry activity.

Alive to what people think about me.

And yet become almost numb to the voice of God.

That is spiritual sleep.

It rarely happens dramatically.

Most people do not wake up one morning and announce that they are going to become spiritually cold.

It happens gradually.

One conviction ignored.

One compromise justified.

One act of obedience postponed.

One appetite repeatedly fed.

One voice of the Holy Spirit pushed away.

Eventually the thing that once troubled me no longer troubles me.

The thing I once would have repented over immediately becomes something I learn to coexist with.

And then I can still function.

I can still smile.

I can still attend church.

I can still speak Christian language.

I may even still minister.

But something in my sensitivity to God has gone to sleep.

And I hear the Spirit saying:

Wake up.

Wake up to My presence.

Wake up to My voice.

Wake up to the shortness of your life.

Wake up to what you were created for.

Paul continues:

“See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil.”

Spiritual awakening must change the way I walk.

If I have truly awakened to God, I cannot continue walking carelessly.

The Human Desire to Escape

As I have been thinking about holiness and fellowship, another issue has been pressing on me.

Escapism.

I am sitting as I write this in a hotel room in Athens, Greece, and it has caused me to think about how often humanity wants to get away.

There is nothing wrong with travel.

There is nothing wrong with a holiday.

There is nothing wrong with resting.

There is nothing wrong with changing scenery.

There is nothing wrong with stepping away from responsibility for a while.

Jesus Himself withdrew from crowds and went into solitary places.

Rest can be holy.

Beauty can be restorative.

Travel can be a gift.

But sometimes what we call rest is actually escape.

Sometimes we are not simply going away to rest.

We are going away because we do not want to feel our normal life for a while.

We want to escape the pressure.

Escape the routine.

Escape the boredom.

Escape the conflict.

Escape the loneliness.

Escape responsibility.

Escape disappointment.

Escape ourselves.

We change the country.

Change the city.

Change the hotel.

Change the scenery.

Change the food.

Change the people around us.

But eventually we discover something.

We took ourselves with us.

The location changed.

The heart did not.

And I believe the Lord sometimes uses the very place we went to escape as the place where He begins speaking again.

A hotel room can become a sanctuary.

A beach can become an altar.

An airplane can become a prayer closet.

A long drive can become communion.

A quiet restaurant table can become the place where the Lord exposes how noisy my soul has become.

A vacation can reveal what busyness allowed me to avoid.

And sometimes I believe the Lord whispers:

You thought you needed to escape your life. What you really needed was to rediscover My presence within your life.

That is very different.

Wherever I Go, Christ Still Desires the Center

One of the great deceptions of compartmentalized Christianity is that we imagine certain places are spiritual and others are simply life.

Church is spiritual.

Prayer is spiritual.

Preaching is spiritual.

Worship is spiritual.

But the rest is just normal life.

I no longer believe that.

If Christ is Lord, He is Lord everywhere.

He is Lord in the sanctuary.

He is Lord in the hotel.

He is Lord at the airport.

He is Lord at the restaurant.

He is Lord while I am working.

He is Lord while I am resting.

He is Lord while I am traveling.

He is Lord when people recognize me.

He is Lord when nobody knows who I am.

He is Lord when I am preaching.

He is Lord when there is absolutely nothing for me to accomplish.

And sometimes I believe those quiet places expose something important.

I may know how to work for Christ better than I know how simply to be with Christ.

That concerns me.

Because before Adam had an assignment, he had fellowship.

Before he cultivated the garden, there was relationship.

Before there was work, there was God.

If my entire relationship with the Lord depends upon activity, what happens when the activity stops?

If I only feel useful when I am ministering, what happens when no one needs me?

If I only know how to meet God in a church service, what happens in the hotel room?

Holiness brings Christ back into the center of every environment.

It says:

You are not part of my life.

You are my life.

Humanity Keeps Looking for Another Place

I believe there is a restlessness in fallen humanity.

We continually imagine that peace may exist somewhere else.

Another city.

Another relationship.

Another career.

Another house.

Another experience.

Another holiday.

Another purchase.

Another achievement.

Another season.

Another environment.

And again, many of those things are perfectly legitimate gifts.

The problem begins when I ask created things to satisfy a hunger that was created for God.

Gifts become dangerous when I expect them to do the work of the Giver.

I can enjoy Athens.

I can enjoy the beauty of a city.

I can enjoy travel.

I can enjoy good food.

I can enjoy wonderful relationships.

I can enjoy the world God made.

But none of it can become my source.

There is a difference between enjoyment and dependency.

If I constantly need something new in order to feel alive, perhaps I need to ask whether I have lost touch with the One who is Life.

Jesus did not say, “I will show you where life is.”

He said:

“I am the life.”

That means wherever Christ is fully welcomed, life is already present.

Sometimes God Does Not Remove What I Am Trying to Escape

This is where the subject becomes uncomfortable.

Sometimes I pray for God to remove something He is using to form me.

Lord, get me out of this.

Change this situation.

Change this person.

Change this environment.

Open another door.

Give me another season.

And certainly there are situations God does remove us from.

There are relationships He closes.

There are environments we must leave.

There are seasons that genuinely end.

But not every discomfort is an enemy.

Some discomforts are teachers.

Some wildernesses are classrooms.

Some frustrations expose our idols.

Some delays reveal our impatience.

Some disappointments show us where our identity has been rooted.

Some seasons of loneliness uncover how dependent we have become upon human affirmation.

Sometimes I keep saying:

“Lord, get me out of this.”

And He is saying:

“Let Me meet you in this.”

That is a very different prayer.

Lord, if You are not changing this yet, change me within it.

If You are not moving me, teach me how to find You here.

If this season remains, show me what You want to form in me.

If I cannot escape it, teach me fellowship inside it.

That may be one of the deepest expressions of holiness.

Holiness is not simply refusing sinful behavior.

Holiness is allowing every restless part of my heart to come under the lordship of Christ.

Holiness Is the End of Hiding

There is something incredibly freeing about having nothing to hide from God.

Not because I have achieved perfection.

I have not.

But because I can remain open.

Search me.

Correct me.

Expose me.

Convict me.

Heal me.

Show me what I cannot see.

If something is wrong, I do not want to defend it.

I want freedom from it.

If something is competing with Christ, I want to know.

If there is something I am using to escape His voice, I want it exposed.

That is holiness.

Not religious performance.

Not pretending.

Not maintaining an image.

Not impressing other Christians.

Holiness is a surrendered heart living in the light.

It is saying:

Lord, there are no locked rooms.

You may enter everything.

My thoughts.

My motives.

My memories.

My appetites.

My relationships.

My wounds.

My ambitions.

My disappointments.

My private life.

My public life.

Everything.

The Holy Spirit Must Produce This in Us

I cannot produce holiness by human determination alone.

Discipline matters.

Obedience matters.

Choices matter.

Saying no to the flesh matters.

But human strength cannot transform the heart.

I need the Holy Spirit.

I need Him to change what I desire.

I need Him to expose what I have normalized.

I need Him to uncover the roots behind my behavior.

I need Him to heal the wound beneath the escape.

I need Him to show me why certain things have such power over me.

I need Him to make Jesus more beautiful to me than whatever temptation stands before me.

True holiness is not merely suppression.

It is transformation.

And transformation happens through relationship.

The closer I draw to God, the more I begin to love what He loves.

The more I know Him, the less appealing many substitutes become.

When living water becomes real, polluted wells lose some of their attraction.

This is why holiness and intimacy cannot be separated.

Obedience Becomes Different When It Comes From Love

Jesus said:

“If ye love me, keep my commandments.”

He connected obedience to love.

That is important.

He did not say:

If you are terrified enough, obey Me.

If you want to impress Me, obey Me.

If you want other Christians to think well of you, obey Me.

He said:

If you love Me.

Love changes the entire nature of holiness.

I am no longer merely asking:

What can I get away with?

That is the wrong question.

Love asks:

What pleases Him?

I stop asking:

Is this technically sin?

And begin asking:

Does this strengthen fellowship?

Does this make me more sensitive to the Holy Spirit?

Does this draw me toward Christ or away from Him?

Does this produce His nature in me?

Does this make me more loving?

More truthful?

More pure?

More humble?

More surrendered?

More like Jesus?

When love becomes the foundation, holiness stops feeling like God is stealing our freedom.

We begin to understand that God is freeing us from lesser masters.

Sin Promises Escape but Eventually Becomes a Prison

Almost every temptation promises some kind of relief.

Relief from pain.

Relief from boredom.

Relief from loneliness.

Relief from frustration.

Relief from pressure.

Relief from insecurity.

That is one reason sin can become a form of escapism.

For a moment, it changes how we feel.

But sin is a terrible physician.

It numbs without healing.

It distracts without restoring.

It promises freedom and eventually demands servitude.

At first, I choose it.

Then I need it.

Then it begins choosing for me.

Holiness takes us in the opposite direction.

At first, surrender may feel restrictive.

Eventually, it becomes freedom.

Freedom from hiding.

Freedom from shame.

Freedom from double lives.

Freedom from secret chains.

Freedom from needing continual stimulation.

Freedom from running.

Freedom to sit quietly before God and know that I am home.

What if the Thing I Am Searching For Is Presence?

Perhaps this is the question beneath so much of life.

What am I actually looking for?

Peace?

Rest?

Acceptance?

Love?

Security?

Meaning?

Belonging?

Life?

And what if all these roads eventually lead back to the same place?

Presence.

The presence of God.

David understood this.

After his sin, his deepest cry was not primarily:

Do not take my kingdom.

Do not destroy my reputation.

Do not let people discover what I did.

His cry was:

“Cast me not away from thy presence.”

He understood what was most valuable.

Presence.

I believe the Church must rediscover that.

I do not merely want God’s blessing.

I want God.

I do not merely want His provision.

I want Him.

I do not merely want Him to help me accomplish my assignment.

I want fellowship.

If I possess everything and lose intimacy, I have lost too much.

If holiness protects that fellowship, then holiness becomes precious.

The Lord Is Calling Us Back

I believe the Lord is calling His people back to holiness.

But I do not believe He is merely calling us back to an era of outward religious rules.

He is calling us back to intimacy.

Back to tenderness.

Back to the secret place.

Back to immediate obedience.

Back to hearts that still tremble when He speaks.

Back to people who do not need to escape their lives because they have discovered His presence in the middle of them.

I hear something in the Spirit:

Stop running from the places where I am trying to meet you.

You may need rest.

Take it.

You may need a holiday.

Enjoy it.

You may need to step away.

Do so.

But do not imagine that geography can heal what only My presence can touch.

Take Me with you.

Find Me there.

Rest with Me.

Walk with Me.

Let Me remain at the center.

Do not take a vacation from fellowship.

Do not suspend holiness because you are away from home.

Do not become someone different because nobody knows you there.

You still belong to Me.

And I am still with you.

Holiness Is Love Protecting What Matters Most

I have come to believe that holiness is one of the great expressions of God’s love toward us.

He calls us holy because He wants us near.

He convicts because He wants us free.

He disciplines because He refuses to leave us captive.

He closes some doors because He sees what is behind them.

He tells us no because He knows where yes would lead.

He exposes our escapism because He wants to heal what we are escaping.

He allows certain seasons because He intends to meet us within them.

And through all of it, I hear Him saying:

You were created for Me.

Before anything else, you were created for fellowship.

Before ministry.

Before achievement.

Before recognition.

Before success.

Before travel.

Before relationships.

Before everything.

You were created to walk with Me.

And that is why holiness matters so deeply.

Holiness is not the price I pay to earn God’s presence.

Holiness is the life that begins to emerge when I finally realize that nothing is more valuable than His presence.

I no longer surrender because I believe God wants to impoverish me.

I surrender because I have discovered treasure.

I no longer obey because I am trying to escape punishment.

I obey because I trust His heart.

I no longer ask Him merely to rescue me from uncomfortable places.

I ask Him to reveal Himself within them.

I no longer need to run endlessly looking for another place where I can finally be at peace.

Because if Christ is at the center, peace has already come with me.

Perhaps the awakening we need is simpler than we think.

Wake up.

Come back.

Stop hiding.

Stop running.

Stop trying to satisfy eternal hunger with temporary experiences.

Let Christ return to the center.

Let the Holy Spirit search everything.

Let holiness become beautiful again.

And perhaps then we will understand what the Lord has been saying all along:

I am not calling you to holiness because I want less for you.

I am calling you to holiness because I want you near Me.

And being near Him was the purpose from the beginning.

Peter Nash