A Peculiar Test of Our Affections

Our affections matter. I mean our deepest desires. Our most sincere thoughts. Our most lofty ambitions. Our strongest motivations. These affections get us out of bed in the morning. They stir our hearts. They set us on fire. They dictate our everyday decisions and order our very lives.

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:21).

It’s not a stretch to say that our affections make us who we are. We are what we love. If “God is love” (1 John 4:8), it makes sense that his image-bearers would also be defined by love. The difference is that God is love and love gets its substance from him, while we become like the things we love (Psalm 115:8).

“My weight is my love, and by it I am carried wheresoever I am carried” (Augustine, Confessions, 13.9).

And if our affections have the power to shape us in this way, it’s obviously crucial that we order these affections properly. If we become what we love, it’s infinitely important that we love the right things.

“The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure produces evil, for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks” (Luke 6:45).

While it would be simple enough to look at Scripture and identify what we ought to love, there’s a better way. Just turn the question around. Don’t ask, “What should we love?" Instead ask, “What should we become?” Because we are what we love, both questions have the same answer. But the second question is much easier to answer.

God designed us in his image after his likeness. That means we’re supposed to be like God. We’re predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son (Romans 8:29). God gave us a pretty clear example of what humans are supposed to look like when he became a human. Jesus is the best form of revelation that we have. He’s the prototype for the Christian life. He’s the true and better Adam. We’re supposed to be like Christ.

And if we’re called to be like Christ, that means we need to love Christ. By loving Christ, we will become like Christ. Our deepest desire must be Christ. Our every thought must be Christ. Our ambitions must be wrapped up in Christ. Christ should motivate us. Christ should get us out of bed every morning. Christ should stir our hearts. Christ should set us on fire. Christ should dictate our decisions and order our lives.

But how can we evaluate our affections? Often it’s pretty simple. It’s usually easy enough to recognize when your affections are enslaved by inherently evil desires. But what about when potentially good desires pull our affections out of orbit? It’s possible to intensely desire something good without misplacing your affections, but how can you make sure you don’t let that desire fester into something worse? What about when we mistake the shadow for the substance?

It can be difficult to discern when a usually good desire has supplanted what should be our chief desire. Our true affections are deeper than our consciousness, such that we struggle to consciously identify our deepest desires. It would be helpful to have some kind of litmus test that we could use to quickly assess how well our affections are centered on Christ. It would be helpful to have some sort of test of our affections.

And one such test of affections that I have found helpful recently is to imagine that Jesus comes back before you get to experience or enjoy any given hope or desire. It might sound a little strange, but I think it can be really helpful. If you find yourself at all disappointed at the prospect that Christ might return before your hope or desire is realized, that’s a pretty alarming sign that your solar system of affections is out of orbit.

For instance, I noticed that I was starting to think about running a lot more than normal last spring. For the first time in years, something was clicking and I was seeing a lot of progress in my marathon training. I started thinking about it more and more. I couldn’t wait for my upcoming races. Then one day I randomly thought about Jesus’ second coming. And I realized that I felt a stab of disappointment at the idea that Christ might return before I got to race a marathon. Of course, that’s stupid. After a few seconds of rational thought, any and all hypothetical disappointment vanished. But still. That instinctual reaction revealed that I had made too big a deal of my running. Coincidentally — or maybe not — a week later, I ended up injuring myself, which threw out all my plans and kept me from running all three races I had planned for the spring (almost as if God thought I could use a lesson).

Obviously, this doesn’t just apply to running. It can be any number of things. Do you have any affections that might be pushing Christ out of the center of your solar system? Maybe it’s getting married. Maybe it’s proving yourself with a career. Maybe it’s seeing your kids grow up. I’m sure you have some desire, focus, or hope that has been crowding your mind and demanding attention recently. Whatever it is, picture Christ coming back. Do you feel any disappointment at the prospect that Jesus might return before that desire is fulfilled?

“The sun of God's glory was made to shine at the center of the solar system of our soul. And when it does, all the planets of our life are held in their proper orbit” (John Piper, Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ).