There was something that I read recently that has penetrated my heart and shifted something within me. We speak of the glory of God and how it fills the earth and we long to know His glory. We talk it, preach it, sing it, we yearn for it. The splendor and majesty of God Almighty we will never fully fathom until heaven one day. I think sometimes we tend to think that the glory of God is like a freebie at some garage sale, "while supplies last." Oh how we have belittled the omnipotent and sovereign God of the universe to fit into our little boxes. So then the question at hand is this: Where can one encounter the glory of God? While I propose that I know much of anything, I would like to turn our attention to perhaps a familiar passage of Scripture:
And the Lord said, "Behold, there is a place by me where you shall stand on the rock, and while my glory passes by I will put you in a cleft of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by. Then I will take away my hand and you shall see my back, but my face shall not be seen." Exodus 33:21-23
Wow! Can you imagine?! Like God just totally told Moses that He would allow him to see as much of Him as possible, but that He would protect him too. Could you imagine God's huge hand covering you? The very thought overwhelms me. What is even more significant to me if you begin reading in verse 12 of this same chapter, Moses is actually interceding for the people of God who have sinned yet again. Moses is pleading and reminding God that they too are His people. As always is the case with our Faithful Father, He keeps His word and says He will do the very thing being pleaded for (vs. 17).
There is glory in intercession beloved! Of course that is not the reason we plead our case before God. We go to Him in the darkest of valleys and in the midst of our fiercest giants and we stand in the gap and wage war with our prayers. We don't pray according to our state of mind or faith, or lack thereof. But we tenaciously pray according to the character of God Almighty. And our prayers and intercession begin to line up with His will as the Spirit intercedes for us and teaches us how to pray. It is in these trenches that I believe God's glory is found.
Too often we want to pray a 1 minute prayer and see the results we're looking for and gaze into His eyes of fire as an added bonus. Oh saints how we have lost the art of intercession and true communion with the Father. No war is fought and resolved in 1 day. Moses had already been given the 10 Commandments on the 2 stones after time with holy God on the mountain. When he came down and saw that the people had sinned greatly and worshipped this golden calf that came out of the fire, his fury raged and he threw the tablets to the ground, crushing them to pieces.
Perhaps just when Moses thought he was on a breakthrough, things turned for the worse. Maybe just when you thought your prayers had been answered, things turned out to be otherwise. Moses persisted and climbed that mountain again, and he interceded. Not only were his prayers heard and answered, but the glory of God was made known in a very real way to Moses that day. Moses was in the trenches of intercession yet again, but in those trenches was the mighty hand of God moving to cover, protect, save, and deliver.
There is something that shifts in the spiritual realm when we dig down deep into the trenches of intercession and plead our case before a just and sovereign God and remind Him of His promises. It is no longer a matter of the giant at the top of the hill taunting you, or the enemy who surrounds you on every side, but a matter of God's mighty hand resting above you and doing the very things that only our omnipotent God can do! Oh saints, there is glory in intercession. May you climb the mountain yet again to drink deeply and wage war...
Monday, January 18
Sunday, December 27
Life is Crazy but Life is Good
I have a beautiful family (dad, momma, 3 siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and so on)! I have an exceptional spiritually family! Then I have a God! There is no earthly words to describe Him.
So I have a good life but it's slightly crazy.
Right after this past Thanksgiving is when I really began thinking about this. During that time my cousin from Michigan came to visit. She and I are VERY different. From the very first day she got there we ran from place to place everyday. Between Nutcracker, House of Faith, Christmas at Old Fort Concho, and our many church services I, as well as the rest of my family, had little time for sit down ministry with my cousin. I began to notice how crazy and unexpected the life I live is. Then I realized that God did some pretty crazy and unexpected things too: saving only 8 people from a world-wide flood, speaking through a donkey, burning up not only an offering but the whole alter, stirring a virgins womb, sending flames of fire to hover over peoples' heads. HE created things to be like that.
After my cousin left, we had about a week or so of somewhat normal life (I'm not sure if thats even a possibility any more) when out of the blue a teenager and her baby end up living in our house. Wow, God, ok, so what now? I love them, really, alot, but that was so unexpected! Now my mind ponders this a little deeper. If everything God did was expected what would make HIM so great. Just a rough guess now, but probably 90% of the time, we as humans, are totally not unexpected. You usually guess what your best friend is about to say next. Or what our mom will say when you ask her if you can do something right after you got in trouble.
The point is I believe God blessed me with a crazy and unexpected life. Without it, life would be utterly boring! I love the life I live because it is a gift. I'm not promised another day, another hour, another breath, but there's God watching over me ready to give me a big bear hug when the craziness feels like too much for my flesh.
God you are so good. Thank you for the crazy life. It's the color in my black and white picture.
Jesus Mighty Jesus!
So I have a good life but it's slightly crazy.
Right after this past Thanksgiving is when I really began thinking about this. During that time my cousin from Michigan came to visit. She and I are VERY different. From the very first day she got there we ran from place to place everyday. Between Nutcracker, House of Faith, Christmas at Old Fort Concho, and our many church services I, as well as the rest of my family, had little time for sit down ministry with my cousin. I began to notice how crazy and unexpected the life I live is. Then I realized that God did some pretty crazy and unexpected things too: saving only 8 people from a world-wide flood, speaking through a donkey, burning up not only an offering but the whole alter, stirring a virgins womb, sending flames of fire to hover over peoples' heads. HE created things to be like that.
After my cousin left, we had about a week or so of somewhat normal life (I'm not sure if thats even a possibility any more) when out of the blue a teenager and her baby end up living in our house. Wow, God, ok, so what now? I love them, really, alot, but that was so unexpected! Now my mind ponders this a little deeper. If everything God did was expected what would make HIM so great. Just a rough guess now, but probably 90% of the time, we as humans, are totally not unexpected. You usually guess what your best friend is about to say next. Or what our mom will say when you ask her if you can do something right after you got in trouble.
The point is I believe God blessed me with a crazy and unexpected life. Without it, life would be utterly boring! I love the life I live because it is a gift. I'm not promised another day, another hour, another breath, but there's God watching over me ready to give me a big bear hug when the craziness feels like too much for my flesh.
God you are so good. Thank you for the crazy life. It's the color in my black and white picture.
Jesus Mighty Jesus!
Wednesday, December 23
Boxing Depot
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Thursday, December 17
Come!
Bells are ringing and hearts are singing, but the spirit yearns for more. Gifts are wrapped and trees are trimmed, but the soul is not satisfied. There is a longing that resonates beyond words deep within the reservoir of every human alive. It's a call unlike any other, for it's a commission from the highest ranking official ever, King Jesus. Can you hear it? The voice that sounds like many rushing waters is speaking your name. He calls out to you in the midst of the chaos and invites you to come. Do you hear Him?
Come and rest, all ye who are weary and heavy-laden. Come and drink deeply all ye who are thirsty. Come and eat all ye who hunger. Come and sit at the sweet feet that once bore the spikes pierced by love. Come and gaze upon the eyes of fire that never shut or grow dim or weary. Come away with me my beloved. Can you hear Him? Oh we sing of that call, we long for that kind of commissioning; "Oh come let us adore Him, come and worship Christ the King." Do you hear Him? Thus the beauty of Christmas unfolds before our flesh-laden eyes. And He tenderly speaks ever so loudly with a simple request: Come and just be.
When we cease to stop doing and simply be, worship overtakes our being. Absolute royalty, King Jesus, choosing to be born amidst the stench of a stable: May our praises rise as a fragrant love offering before you today O Lord. The pure and spotless One, slaughtered like a lamb for my sin, on a cross that bore no dignity or respect: May we lay down everything and not waste one precious drop of your blood Jesus. And the One who was beaten beyond recognition laid to rest in a tomb, risen and reigning victoriously over all the earth: May your glory King Jesus fill the earth like the waters fill the seas! Have your glory King of glory!
There is no other call I'd rather answer. Come away my beloved. Oh come let us adore Him. Let us worship Christ the King. Do you hear Him? Silence yourselves. Be still and know that He is God. He still calls. His love beckons us deeply. He still speaks. Do you hear Him? May the deepest yearnings of your heart be consumed by the presence of the One who invites you to come...
Come and rest, all ye who are weary and heavy-laden. Come and drink deeply all ye who are thirsty. Come and eat all ye who hunger. Come and sit at the sweet feet that once bore the spikes pierced by love. Come and gaze upon the eyes of fire that never shut or grow dim or weary. Come away with me my beloved. Can you hear Him? Oh we sing of that call, we long for that kind of commissioning; "Oh come let us adore Him, come and worship Christ the King." Do you hear Him? Thus the beauty of Christmas unfolds before our flesh-laden eyes. And He tenderly speaks ever so loudly with a simple request: Come and just be.
When we cease to stop doing and simply be, worship overtakes our being. Absolute royalty, King Jesus, choosing to be born amidst the stench of a stable: May our praises rise as a fragrant love offering before you today O Lord. The pure and spotless One, slaughtered like a lamb for my sin, on a cross that bore no dignity or respect: May we lay down everything and not waste one precious drop of your blood Jesus. And the One who was beaten beyond recognition laid to rest in a tomb, risen and reigning victoriously over all the earth: May your glory King Jesus fill the earth like the waters fill the seas! Have your glory King of glory!
There is no other call I'd rather answer. Come away my beloved. Oh come let us adore Him. Let us worship Christ the King. Do you hear Him? Silence yourselves. Be still and know that He is God. He still calls. His love beckons us deeply. He still speaks. Do you hear Him? May the deepest yearnings of your heart be consumed by the presence of the One who invites you to come...
Saturday, December 5
Emmanuel
Christmas: It is here and permeates the most mundane of life's activities. The lights are hung, the tree is trimmed, and the hustle and bustle of it all has not slowed. The carols are harmonically sung throughout the crisp air of the wintery season, and the hearts of people are warmed as they give and share both love and life with one another. Emmanuel, God with us. One of the many names of glorious God, quoted throughout Scripture and seemingly a favorite term for this time of year.
God with us. Stop for a moment and let that sink in and really penetrate to the depths of your being. Oh sure I imagine it brings comfort to so many whose hearts are at their loneliest seasons of the human soul. What peace it must bring to the one who oft feels abandoned and left to face life's giants alone. But there is another side to this that I have never chewed on before, and I must say it is bringing a bit of a spiritual self-gagging reflex reaction.
The carnal nature of my flesh is so quick to rush foolishly into the depths of sin and without second thought. My spirit beckons to pause and stare into the fiery eyes of a holy and almighty God, but my flesh reigns supreme. I proceed without caution and do the very thing that nailed Jesus to the cross. Like a dog that returns to its own vomit and like the pig that rolls in the muck and mire, I allow my flesh to dominate and dance in it's evil desires. Moments later, my cold heart stops. I feel naked before the One, running in an attempt to go hide.
There is a little phase that most children go through, I can still remember this time of my life as a child. It's time for bed and it's been a fun day and exhausting all in one. Your body is ready for rest, your flesh fights it. So choosing to honor your parents and do what you know is best, you slowly stumble to bed. But in tow is your blanky, favorite teddy bear, that special dolly that you must have, and maybe even a good book just in case. And oh of course, don't forget that extra little action figure you slipped in your pocket. You crawl into bed and tuck in each one of your friends, then cover up yourself as you lay with all of your precious belongings. It's great for a moment, until you realize that there is no room. The extra toys have lost their fun and special purposes because they are crowding you out of your bed. So you decide to just keep 1 or 2 and carelessly toss the others aside.
And so I find myself in the grown-up version of this old classic. My spirit yearns for the sweet and all-consuming fire of Jesus, yet my flesh refuses to release these sinful desires. So I try to do the impossible. I drag my feet to the One who knows all and is all, with my selfish desires in tow, my secret sin in my pocket, and all of these other eartly desires that nailed Jesus Christ to the cross. I am learning that it is not possible to pursue the presence of holy God while at the same time entertain the pleasures of sin. It must be one or the other, it simply cannot be both. God is holy and can have nothing to do with sin. While I know this to be true and have known this, I sit and reflect as to how I came to this place of compromise.
Emmanuel, God with us. It is quite difficult to commit that sin when you know and believe to be true that Jesus is right there with you. Like the fork that scratches against the dinner plate is the cringe I feel when I realize I have just sinned intentionally against the holy One. And I realize that my world of sin and complacency cannot coexist with the kingdom of God. So I begin to toss these things aside, treating it as the wretched sin and rubbish that it is. While we are all sinners in need of God and His grace and forgiveness, it doesn't have to be like this.
God commands us to be holy because He is holy. I cannot embrace the One and all He has if I insist on keeping my hands full of junk. I cannot receive what He desires to give me if I simply keep my arms folded in indifference to sin. I cannot go where He leads if I choose to stay dancing in the mud. I cannot hear what He is saying if I plug my ears up because His voice brings conviction. I cannot go on sinning without second thought and repentance if I truly understand Emmanuel, God with us.
May Emmanuel invade your space and permeate the very core of your hearts this holy-day season...
God with us. Stop for a moment and let that sink in and really penetrate to the depths of your being. Oh sure I imagine it brings comfort to so many whose hearts are at their loneliest seasons of the human soul. What peace it must bring to the one who oft feels abandoned and left to face life's giants alone. But there is another side to this that I have never chewed on before, and I must say it is bringing a bit of a spiritual self-gagging reflex reaction.
The carnal nature of my flesh is so quick to rush foolishly into the depths of sin and without second thought. My spirit beckons to pause and stare into the fiery eyes of a holy and almighty God, but my flesh reigns supreme. I proceed without caution and do the very thing that nailed Jesus to the cross. Like a dog that returns to its own vomit and like the pig that rolls in the muck and mire, I allow my flesh to dominate and dance in it's evil desires. Moments later, my cold heart stops. I feel naked before the One, running in an attempt to go hide.
There is a little phase that most children go through, I can still remember this time of my life as a child. It's time for bed and it's been a fun day and exhausting all in one. Your body is ready for rest, your flesh fights it. So choosing to honor your parents and do what you know is best, you slowly stumble to bed. But in tow is your blanky, favorite teddy bear, that special dolly that you must have, and maybe even a good book just in case. And oh of course, don't forget that extra little action figure you slipped in your pocket. You crawl into bed and tuck in each one of your friends, then cover up yourself as you lay with all of your precious belongings. It's great for a moment, until you realize that there is no room. The extra toys have lost their fun and special purposes because they are crowding you out of your bed. So you decide to just keep 1 or 2 and carelessly toss the others aside.
And so I find myself in the grown-up version of this old classic. My spirit yearns for the sweet and all-consuming fire of Jesus, yet my flesh refuses to release these sinful desires. So I try to do the impossible. I drag my feet to the One who knows all and is all, with my selfish desires in tow, my secret sin in my pocket, and all of these other eartly desires that nailed Jesus Christ to the cross. I am learning that it is not possible to pursue the presence of holy God while at the same time entertain the pleasures of sin. It must be one or the other, it simply cannot be both. God is holy and can have nothing to do with sin. While I know this to be true and have known this, I sit and reflect as to how I came to this place of compromise.
Emmanuel, God with us. It is quite difficult to commit that sin when you know and believe to be true that Jesus is right there with you. Like the fork that scratches against the dinner plate is the cringe I feel when I realize I have just sinned intentionally against the holy One. And I realize that my world of sin and complacency cannot coexist with the kingdom of God. So I begin to toss these things aside, treating it as the wretched sin and rubbish that it is. While we are all sinners in need of God and His grace and forgiveness, it doesn't have to be like this.
God commands us to be holy because He is holy. I cannot embrace the One and all He has if I insist on keeping my hands full of junk. I cannot receive what He desires to give me if I simply keep my arms folded in indifference to sin. I cannot go where He leads if I choose to stay dancing in the mud. I cannot hear what He is saying if I plug my ears up because His voice brings conviction. I cannot go on sinning without second thought and repentance if I truly understand Emmanuel, God with us.
May Emmanuel invade your space and permeate the very core of your hearts this holy-day season...
Wednesday, November 25
Shades of Grey...
One of the most raw things one can do as a created being is to be completely real, absurdly honest. To just expose the truth with no superficial layers, eliminating the sugarcoating that we have become so immune to applying. Something happens when you are honest, and I mean honest to the deepest part of who you are. There is a danger there in that place that can sting like the raw flesh of an open wound. The vulnerability that one feels can be so real that it makes you want to go and sew some fig leaves together to cover it all up. But there's also a deep beauty in this place, a fountain of freedom that flows from the innermost part. There is a big chunk of this picturesque place that we seem to miss all of the time. The truth is that we may try and hide from ourselves, but we can never hide from God Almighty. He knew that Adam and Eve were naked before they even hid. But it wasn't so much a matter of their physical being as much as it was their heart. When you blatantly sin against God the Father, you run and hide. But our sin and absolute disobedience does not prevent Him from walking in the cool of the day seeking fellowship with the very ones whom He created in His own image. Is hide and seek really possible with the One who knows all? So it is here in these next few moments that I will dare to enter into that place that makes me squirm with conviction and ushers me to my knees in repentance before a holy God...
Grey. It's just an choice in the Crayola box, perhaps an option in your wardrobe. It's the color of the sky on a rainy day, perhaps an artistic shade of emotion after a unseemingly joyful day. I have a question that has been burning within me the last few weeks, and I can't seem to shake it. What happens when grey enters our lives as followers of Jesus Christ, when grey becomes a normalacy within the walls of the church? I know one thing to be true; grey will never usher in revival. Grey will never accompany true intimacy with a holy God. Grey will never expedite the setting apart of Christians as we are commanded in Scripture to be. Grey will never loose the chains of the drug addict or release the chains of those in bondage. Grey is like a cancer of the church, slowly deteriorating one member at a time until it leads to an absolute death of epidemic proportions.
Any child would be able to tell you that grey can be made when combining black and white. Black represents the very things of the world and the sin that so easily entangles it, the very things that we are to hate. Please notice I said things and not people. White represents the truth, the pure things of the Lord, the things that we are told to think upon. We welcome grey into our theological circles of religious snobs when we combine the two, when we take the secular things of the world and try to christianize them. For instance, some might say that it is not wrong to drink, but we should never get drunk. Is that true? What in alcolhol represents Jesus Christ? Does it usher us into the presence of the holy One? This is just one minor example, and there are countless others.
With regards to living life as a follower of Jesus, it is either black or white. There is no grey, grey is not an option for the one who is radically commited to Jesus. God even says that He would rather people be either hot or cold, for lukewarm ones will be spit out of His mouth. It's interesting how He gives cold as an option and not lukewarm. It's interesting how black is an option, not grey. Is it me or have we created our own little universe with our precious little rules and adaptations? Are we not just the dust of the earth? Have we entertained some sort of role reversal in our fantasy land with God? For me, the truth is yes. I have allowed the grey to seep beyond the Crayola box and into my heart.
I have not met the cross and the pure and spotless Jesus on that cross face to face. I have no idea what grace truly is, I will never understand the absolute ugly beauty of the cross. Jesus Christ was slaughtered like a lamb on my behalf. He was beaten beyond recognition for my sins. He endured the worst possible punishment even though He had never commited one wrong, not one. He was obedient to death and death upon a cross to save my soul from an eternal habitation in hell. Oh whether or not I ever really get this does not change the magnitude of that sacrifice. Jesus would have still followed through even if everyone rejected Him forever.
But rather than eternally embracing the cross and allowing it's splinters to pierce my hardened heart, I have chosen to momentarily embrace this thing called grace and foolishly put it in the garage sale pile. Oh you know what that pile is like: It was once something used and of value and maybe even of great treasure, but it's been used up and tossed out and maybe someone else can use it and pay for it. Grace can never be cheapened, but we can live in such a way that makes this a very frightening reality. Our complacency propels us into a downward spiral of spiritual degrading. Our making room for mediocrity causes the mouth of God to want to vomit. Our spiritualizing the things of the world welcomes grey like a long lost friend.
I long for the day when I can look back at who I used to be and be sick to my stomach. I cry out for the day when the church will rise up and be who it was created to be. I dream of the day in which the church of Acts is not just something to read about, but is a reality lived out. I yearn for the day in which complacency and mediocrity make me sick. I wonder what the world would look like if Christians truly were set apart in every way. I wonder how it must shatter the heart of the Father when we treat our life with Him as something to do rather than someone to be. I wonder if God really knew what He was saying when He commanded us to be holy. Better yet, I wonder if we really knew who was speaking and were really listening when He said, "Be holy because I am holy."
I think Adam and Eve were a bit caught off guard that day in the garden. Maybe there were some akward moments of what to do and what to say. I'm finding myself in that place too. I don't think there is much one can say other than: "You were right and I was wrong." But to admit that would mean a removal of the grey, that thing that we worked so hard to create and justify. Jesus may I not waste one more drop of your precious blood on my little snippets of grey. Oh that I would see the cross and the sacrifice for what it really was. I want to see my sin as what it is, the very spikes that were driven into your wrists. Forgive me oh holy God, for dragging my grey with me to the cross that was covered in red for all of my black that you command to be white...in Jesus name, Amen.
Grey. It's just an choice in the Crayola box, perhaps an option in your wardrobe. It's the color of the sky on a rainy day, perhaps an artistic shade of emotion after a unseemingly joyful day. I have a question that has been burning within me the last few weeks, and I can't seem to shake it. What happens when grey enters our lives as followers of Jesus Christ, when grey becomes a normalacy within the walls of the church? I know one thing to be true; grey will never usher in revival. Grey will never accompany true intimacy with a holy God. Grey will never expedite the setting apart of Christians as we are commanded in Scripture to be. Grey will never loose the chains of the drug addict or release the chains of those in bondage. Grey is like a cancer of the church, slowly deteriorating one member at a time until it leads to an absolute death of epidemic proportions.
Any child would be able to tell you that grey can be made when combining black and white. Black represents the very things of the world and the sin that so easily entangles it, the very things that we are to hate. Please notice I said things and not people. White represents the truth, the pure things of the Lord, the things that we are told to think upon. We welcome grey into our theological circles of religious snobs when we combine the two, when we take the secular things of the world and try to christianize them. For instance, some might say that it is not wrong to drink, but we should never get drunk. Is that true? What in alcolhol represents Jesus Christ? Does it usher us into the presence of the holy One? This is just one minor example, and there are countless others.
With regards to living life as a follower of Jesus, it is either black or white. There is no grey, grey is not an option for the one who is radically commited to Jesus. God even says that He would rather people be either hot or cold, for lukewarm ones will be spit out of His mouth. It's interesting how He gives cold as an option and not lukewarm. It's interesting how black is an option, not grey. Is it me or have we created our own little universe with our precious little rules and adaptations? Are we not just the dust of the earth? Have we entertained some sort of role reversal in our fantasy land with God? For me, the truth is yes. I have allowed the grey to seep beyond the Crayola box and into my heart.
I have not met the cross and the pure and spotless Jesus on that cross face to face. I have no idea what grace truly is, I will never understand the absolute ugly beauty of the cross. Jesus Christ was slaughtered like a lamb on my behalf. He was beaten beyond recognition for my sins. He endured the worst possible punishment even though He had never commited one wrong, not one. He was obedient to death and death upon a cross to save my soul from an eternal habitation in hell. Oh whether or not I ever really get this does not change the magnitude of that sacrifice. Jesus would have still followed through even if everyone rejected Him forever.
But rather than eternally embracing the cross and allowing it's splinters to pierce my hardened heart, I have chosen to momentarily embrace this thing called grace and foolishly put it in the garage sale pile. Oh you know what that pile is like: It was once something used and of value and maybe even of great treasure, but it's been used up and tossed out and maybe someone else can use it and pay for it. Grace can never be cheapened, but we can live in such a way that makes this a very frightening reality. Our complacency propels us into a downward spiral of spiritual degrading. Our making room for mediocrity causes the mouth of God to want to vomit. Our spiritualizing the things of the world welcomes grey like a long lost friend.
I long for the day when I can look back at who I used to be and be sick to my stomach. I cry out for the day when the church will rise up and be who it was created to be. I dream of the day in which the church of Acts is not just something to read about, but is a reality lived out. I yearn for the day in which complacency and mediocrity make me sick. I wonder what the world would look like if Christians truly were set apart in every way. I wonder how it must shatter the heart of the Father when we treat our life with Him as something to do rather than someone to be. I wonder if God really knew what He was saying when He commanded us to be holy. Better yet, I wonder if we really knew who was speaking and were really listening when He said, "Be holy because I am holy."
I think Adam and Eve were a bit caught off guard that day in the garden. Maybe there were some akward moments of what to do and what to say. I'm finding myself in that place too. I don't think there is much one can say other than: "You were right and I was wrong." But to admit that would mean a removal of the grey, that thing that we worked so hard to create and justify. Jesus may I not waste one more drop of your precious blood on my little snippets of grey. Oh that I would see the cross and the sacrifice for what it really was. I want to see my sin as what it is, the very spikes that were driven into your wrists. Forgive me oh holy God, for dragging my grey with me to the cross that was covered in red for all of my black that you command to be white...in Jesus name, Amen.
Saturday, November 21
Thirsty...
As always seems to be the case, I have been chewing on something recently; John 4. I’m sure you know the story. Jesus and the disciples have been traveling and they come to the city of Sychar. Jesus, tired from the journey, slumps down against the well for a rest while the disciples go into town to gather some food. A Samaritan woman, busy I’m sure at the noon hour of the day, comes to draw water, a seemingly everyday task for her. As she comes near, Jesus asks her for a drink. Caught off guard the woman reminds Jesus that He is a Jew and she is a Samaritan, so she questions His asking for a drink. Jesus then goes on to tell her that if she knew who He really was she would ask for the living water. She looks, doesn’t see any well-drawing equipment that He has with, and asks how it is He is going to get this living water since the well is deep and He has nothing with which to draw. Jesus then continues in His poetic picture and speaks boldly that those who drink of well water will thirst again but those who drink of the living water will never thirst and will in fact have a living spring that erupts into salvation. Intrigued and convinced, the woman asks for this living water so she won’t have to keep coming and drawing this well water. A bold confrontation is then made as Jesus tells her to bring her husband and come back. She admits she does not have a husband. And then Jesus follows up with her relational status of having had 5 husbands but the man she was with at the moment was not her husband. She perceives He is a prophet, but then begins to speak of the Messiah Jesus Christ who is coming and will explain all things. And then Jesus says one statement that changes everything: “I who speak to you am he.”
I’m finding myself in the shoes of the woman, perhaps I should say sandals. I’m finding myself in the middle of mundane life events, most of which I like but some which I loathe. And I find myself being asked things with which I cannot comply, either based out of lack of faith, disobedience, or just personal comfort zones. I begin to squirm uncomfortably in my chair as I face this resistance between a higher calling and a lower level of reality as I live. I ask what a holy God would want with a wretched sinner such as I. And then He speaks, the One. He persists with a fiery passion that I’ve never known before. I am looking for one thing, He offers another. I then cave in desperation thinking that I just might be aligned with this One and His offer. Again, I missed the point. It’s not a matter of water, it’s a matter of life. I sheepishly grin as I step back and am reminded of how little I actually know. He stares into the depths of my being with His eyes that burn like fire, and begins to outline the details of my life, the dark and ugly ones that nobody is supposed to know. And then in that little soft part of my heart that has not been hardened by the muck and mire of the world, I begin to think that He is someone. Oh yes, I know of the Messiah that is coming and knows all. And then I am stopped. He says one thing that radically shifts something within my broken being: “I who speak to you am He.”
Of course we know the rest of the story. The woman goes back to town sharing the divine encounter she has had at the well and the people of the town come back to the well with her to see who this One is. They find the One who sits against the well is the Messiah, the One who knows all and supersedes all. They urge Him to stay with them and so He stays 2 days and many come to salvation in that city. The living water had indeed been poured out over many souls that day, and it all started with a request for a cup of water.
There is something about a life completely surrendered to the Messiah that brings about great change. There’s something so freeing about letting go of what you so tightly grip in exchange for what the Messiah wants to give you. There is something so humbling about staring into the very face of the One who knows the deepest and darkest things about you. There is something so crazy about the call of grace that beckons more loudly over the voice of the enemy who thinks he has defeated you. There is something so refreshing about this living water that washes over every broken soul and cleanses it, even though I am undeserving. There is something so marvelous about waiting for the One you have longed for, only to realize He is the One with which you speak.
Oh that I would yield and surrender myself to this One. The simplicity of just receiving all that He is and all the He offers. Who am I to think that what I have is better? This is Jesus the Messiah, the One who meets us where we are. The only One who can offer salvation and the living water, the only One whose blood covers all and overcomes all. Jesus forgive me for arguing with you at my well. I am so foolish and stubborn that your persistent beckoning and radical grace I will never comprehend. Holy Spirit help me to just yield. I long for all of you, let me see you right in front of me. This is reality. I don’t want to keep coming here trying to draw this water. You truly are all that I need and desire. Thank you for meeting me right where I am, but loving me enough to leave me in this place…
I’m finding myself in the shoes of the woman, perhaps I should say sandals. I’m finding myself in the middle of mundane life events, most of which I like but some which I loathe. And I find myself being asked things with which I cannot comply, either based out of lack of faith, disobedience, or just personal comfort zones. I begin to squirm uncomfortably in my chair as I face this resistance between a higher calling and a lower level of reality as I live. I ask what a holy God would want with a wretched sinner such as I. And then He speaks, the One. He persists with a fiery passion that I’ve never known before. I am looking for one thing, He offers another. I then cave in desperation thinking that I just might be aligned with this One and His offer. Again, I missed the point. It’s not a matter of water, it’s a matter of life. I sheepishly grin as I step back and am reminded of how little I actually know. He stares into the depths of my being with His eyes that burn like fire, and begins to outline the details of my life, the dark and ugly ones that nobody is supposed to know. And then in that little soft part of my heart that has not been hardened by the muck and mire of the world, I begin to think that He is someone. Oh yes, I know of the Messiah that is coming and knows all. And then I am stopped. He says one thing that radically shifts something within my broken being: “I who speak to you am He.”
Of course we know the rest of the story. The woman goes back to town sharing the divine encounter she has had at the well and the people of the town come back to the well with her to see who this One is. They find the One who sits against the well is the Messiah, the One who knows all and supersedes all. They urge Him to stay with them and so He stays 2 days and many come to salvation in that city. The living water had indeed been poured out over many souls that day, and it all started with a request for a cup of water.
There is something about a life completely surrendered to the Messiah that brings about great change. There’s something so freeing about letting go of what you so tightly grip in exchange for what the Messiah wants to give you. There is something so humbling about staring into the very face of the One who knows the deepest and darkest things about you. There is something so crazy about the call of grace that beckons more loudly over the voice of the enemy who thinks he has defeated you. There is something so refreshing about this living water that washes over every broken soul and cleanses it, even though I am undeserving. There is something so marvelous about waiting for the One you have longed for, only to realize He is the One with which you speak.
Oh that I would yield and surrender myself to this One. The simplicity of just receiving all that He is and all the He offers. Who am I to think that what I have is better? This is Jesus the Messiah, the One who meets us where we are. The only One who can offer salvation and the living water, the only One whose blood covers all and overcomes all. Jesus forgive me for arguing with you at my well. I am so foolish and stubborn that your persistent beckoning and radical grace I will never comprehend. Holy Spirit help me to just yield. I long for all of you, let me see you right in front of me. This is reality. I don’t want to keep coming here trying to draw this water. You truly are all that I need and desire. Thank you for meeting me right where I am, but loving me enough to leave me in this place…
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