On a Monday morning, some truths need to be repeated as guilt can wash in like a flood.
"You slept through your alarm and didn't do your devotions? Oh, wait. You didn't even set your alarm. What kind of person are you?"
"You do this every weekend. Devotions seems to start and end with weekdays. Not even on Sunday!"
"You said you'd do better this time, well, you didn't."
And the voices go on and on... but only if I let them. Because they are not truth, they are not who He is.
I can so easily transpose human emotion onto a God who never changes. I can imagine Him miffed by my unconcern toward spending time with Him or my blatant refusal of His wishes. Yes, I'm sure He is disappointed. But miffed, holding back on me and keeping His presence from me so I feel His distance even as I was distant from Him before?
No. He is not a vengeful God towards His children.
And there's a line that goes through my head. It's from a song one of the students wrote last year:
You make me holy. You make me holy. You make me holy, You make me holy.
Truth that resounds.
You see, I can so easily forget what Hebrews 12:12 is really trying to say:
We do this [running with endurance] by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. (Hebrews 12:2a)
He initiated. And He perfects. My deeds were not what got me into the position of a highly favoured child of God. And they won't get me out of it either. Which is not a license for sinning more, but what enables me to look beyond my failures of a weekend and to know that my God is ready and waiting to perfect my faith as I come to Him.
He makes me holy. Hallelujah!
Showing posts with label Him. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Him. Show all posts
Monday, November 18
Saturday, November 16
Irresistible
Great article that was given to us in class one day. Made me stop and think about what things I perceive in my desire to approach Him and the things that keep me back:
Christianity is not so much about you desiring God as it is about God desiring you. I wonder if you believe that.
We are all about desiring God at Desiring God. We believe with all our hearts that God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.
But the truth is that we will not desire God if we don’t believe that really God desires us. If God is a powerful person who in reality cares little or nothing about us, we may have a fear-based respect for him, but we will not love him. We will certainly not be satisfied in him. We will keep our distance from him and find our true satisfaction elsewhere.
This is, in fact, why many of us feel distant from God. We think he’s distant from us, but really we are keeping our distance from him. We don’t desire God because we believe things about him that are wrong. And because of that we have grown cynical, disillusioned, and have serial spiritual adulterous affairs with idols in our lives.
And if this describes you, you’re listening to what your perception says about God and not what God says about God. And what you need right now is to come to terms with the truth that “Jesus Christ desires to be with you a thousand times more than you desire to be with him.” He wants you! You need to know that the Christian God is a desiring God.
Listen to the message that pastor R W Glenn delivered at our National Conference six weeks ago. In this message, he beautifully unpacks this truth from Hosea chapter 7. Please listen to it. It’s 45 minutes that really may change your life. It may help you understand why you struggle so much to desire God and it may open up a new world of worship for you. Here’s a taste:
If God says that he wants you (and wants all of you) warts and all, he wants you. Everything about you – all the stuff you are ashamed of, all the stuff you hate about yourself, all your failures, all the weaknesses, all your filthiness and all your idolatry, all your unbelief — God wants you still. Stop believing yourself and believe him instead. He’s got a fix on reality. And the reality is that the Lord loves you with all he is.
Jesus so loved you and desired you that while you were still a sinner he died for you (Romans 5:8). And if you love him at all it is because he first loved you (1 John 4:19). Delve into that glorious mystery! Don’t remain distant!
It may be that before you can focus on desiring God, you need to focus on the desiring God. When you really know the desiring God, you’ll find him irresistible.
Tuesday, August 13
Grace Full
I surrender all I am for who You are.
Read that again.
And again.
What does this mean?
I deal with my insufficiency day by day, although I often pat myself on my back for my ability to control myself.
But this morning as I rolled over in bed when my alarm went off at 6:30, waking me up for a run and starting to get me back into Millar schedule, I rebelled.
I'm tired. I'm achy. I AM NOT GETTING UP. I know what I said I would do. I know what's right, even if it's simply a standard I set for myself, but I refuse.
And so I slept on, tossing and turning, retreating from the encroaching morning sunlight.
Eventually I crawled out of bed, and sat there, despaired.
I love control. I love knowing that I can control myself, that I can conquer any bad habit or tendency if I simply try. But there are days when I fail (I mean, this should come as a taken, right, Christy? Along with the whole fallen humanity dealio? You didn't realize that.... oh.... awkward moment). I beat myself up, although I know given the chance to rewind the hours, I would do exactly the same thing.
It's not that I sinned by sleeping in, but rather that I was faced again with how much of a failure I am to even control my sleeping habits. And if I'm a failure at controlling my sleeping habits, why do I even pretend that I've got this whole righteousness thing down pat?
Although it's been a continual lesson over the past year at Millar, it was just impressed anew to me this morning - salvation is all about insufficiency.
We are not enough.
Not enough to be able to come into the presence of a holy God.
Who may worship in your sanctuary, LORD? Who may enter your presence on your holy hill? Those who lead blameless lives and do what is right, speaking the truth from sincere hearts. (Psalm 15:1-2)
This Psalm goes on to list the qualities of the person who can approach the Lord, but that first one catches me right off guard. I mean, why not go up from smaller to greater qualities, but, ok, then, hit me with the biggest one first, why don'tcha?
Those who lead blameless lives.
I'm pretty sure that phrase finds no place in the definition of Christy Scott.
Nuh-uh. No blamess life being lived over here.
And it's not for lack of effort. Not in the least. I try, and I try, and sometimes I purpose to fail simply because I feel the weight of never being enough.
Then there's the one point. The one time when truth was spoken and I saw, even as a little three year old, that I needed Something else... I needed Someone else.
And as much as I recognize that He is the only One who saves, I guess I forget that He continues to be the only One who can save, every. single. day.
As I wake up, is my first prayer, "I cannot live this day alone. I ask you to shred away another layer of my selfish hold and instead interpose Yourself into every situation."?
No.
And I lifted myself up from my bed and got ready to shower, and then got my computer, and for the first time in a long time, listened to music while I showered. And the words of simple Amazing Grace hit home again.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.
Grace. Amazing Grace.
He's full of it.
Will you take it?
Every day, will it be your companion, the assurance that you are not doing this thing alone? That you are no longer yourself, for you have been crucified, you have died, you have risen again... with Christ?
And here's a marvelous old hymn that just summed up what I just splattered everywhere on this post:
Read that again.
And again.
What does this mean?
I deal with my insufficiency day by day, although I often pat myself on my back for my ability to control myself.
But this morning as I rolled over in bed when my alarm went off at 6:30, waking me up for a run and starting to get me back into Millar schedule, I rebelled.
I'm tired. I'm achy. I AM NOT GETTING UP. I know what I said I would do. I know what's right, even if it's simply a standard I set for myself, but I refuse.
And so I slept on, tossing and turning, retreating from the encroaching morning sunlight.
Eventually I crawled out of bed, and sat there, despaired.
I love control. I love knowing that I can control myself, that I can conquer any bad habit or tendency if I simply try. But there are days when I fail (I mean, this should come as a taken, right, Christy? Along with the whole fallen humanity dealio? You didn't realize that.... oh.... awkward moment). I beat myself up, although I know given the chance to rewind the hours, I would do exactly the same thing.
It's not that I sinned by sleeping in, but rather that I was faced again with how much of a failure I am to even control my sleeping habits. And if I'm a failure at controlling my sleeping habits, why do I even pretend that I've got this whole righteousness thing down pat?
Although it's been a continual lesson over the past year at Millar, it was just impressed anew to me this morning - salvation is all about insufficiency.
We are not enough.
Not enough to be able to come into the presence of a holy God.
Who may worship in your sanctuary, LORD? Who may enter your presence on your holy hill? Those who lead blameless lives and do what is right, speaking the truth from sincere hearts. (Psalm 15:1-2)
This Psalm goes on to list the qualities of the person who can approach the Lord, but that first one catches me right off guard. I mean, why not go up from smaller to greater qualities, but, ok, then, hit me with the biggest one first, why don'tcha?
Those who lead blameless lives.
I'm pretty sure that phrase finds no place in the definition of Christy Scott.
Nuh-uh. No blamess life being lived over here.
And it's not for lack of effort. Not in the least. I try, and I try, and sometimes I purpose to fail simply because I feel the weight of never being enough.
Then there's the one point. The one time when truth was spoken and I saw, even as a little three year old, that I needed Something else... I needed Someone else.
And as much as I recognize that He is the only One who saves, I guess I forget that He continues to be the only One who can save, every. single. day.
As I wake up, is my first prayer, "I cannot live this day alone. I ask you to shred away another layer of my selfish hold and instead interpose Yourself into every situation."?
No.
And I lifted myself up from my bed and got ready to shower, and then got my computer, and for the first time in a long time, listened to music while I showered. And the words of simple Amazing Grace hit home again.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.
Grace. Amazing Grace.
He's full of it.
Will you take it?
Every day, will it be your companion, the assurance that you are not doing this thing alone? That you are no longer yourself, for you have been crucified, you have died, you have risen again... with Christ?
And here's a marvelous old hymn that just summed up what I just splattered everywhere on this post:
Marvelous grace of our loving Lord,
Grace that exceeds our sin and our guilt!
Yonder on Calvary’s mount outpoured,
There where the blood of the Lamb was spilled.
Grace that exceeds our sin and our guilt!
Yonder on Calvary’s mount outpoured,
There where the blood of the Lamb was spilled.
Grace, grace, God’s grace,
Grace that will pardon and cleanse within;
Grace, grace, God’s grace,
Grace that is greater than all our sin.
Grace that will pardon and cleanse within;
Grace, grace, God’s grace,
Grace that is greater than all our sin.
Sin and despair, like the sea waves cold,
Threaten the soul with infinite loss;
Grace that is greater, yes, grace untold,
Points to the refuge, the mighty cross.
Threaten the soul with infinite loss;
Grace that is greater, yes, grace untold,
Points to the refuge, the mighty cross.
Dark is the stain that we cannot hide.
What can avail to wash it away?
Look! There is flowing a crimson tide,
Brighter than snow you may be today.
What can avail to wash it away?
Look! There is flowing a crimson tide,
Brighter than snow you may be today.
Marvelous, infinite, matchless grace,
Freely bestowed on all who believe!
You that are longing to see His face,
Will you this moment His grace receive?
Freely bestowed on all who believe!
You that are longing to see His face,
Will you this moment His grace receive?
Tuesday, May 14
Wasting Nothing
{Now that I'm back to a sort-of routine here at home, I'm hoping to write more frequently in this space, consequential or not, so I might not be linking all of them to FB. So if you want to make sure to catch all of my posts, make sure to become a follower either by joining the site or following by e-mail. I would sure appreciate that!}
I was talking to a dear friend of mine last night, who is going through some deep issues within their family. And tears seem to be the easiest response when life seems to go in the opposite direction than we thought it would.
So I shared with her a song that I heard first in another blogger's post.
Nothing is wasted.
And it's incredible for me to look back on that Thing That Took Me Away. It doesn't cause hurt or pain or bitterness when I recall it, though. Instead, I see the entire situation gilded with glory and creased with signs of care by One who knew exactly what He was doing.
Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing. (James 1:2-4, NLT)
Having a sister who was considered by some to be disabled for a time? Gave me a heart for those the world see as disabled, and enabled God to show me a passion I didn't know was there.
Not being able to go to the MK boarding school in the capital city that I was looking forward to? Being placed in a school that allowed me to learn how to play the flute and tour with a choir for three years, plus many other opportunities, eventually leading to going to Millar.
Having an interview yesterday and it immediately ending after hearing that I've committed to going to Bible Camp this summer? Provides a way for God to work in something that's building up to blow me away with His grace.
If I just allow myself to see it that way, instead of what the surface seems like. It's sometimes easy to forget that He still knows what He's doing.
Each day, when I come upon those small disappointments or hard conversations or burdens from a friend, He is the only One who can hold and gather each broken piece.
His Arms are big enough, and His heart is deep enough.
There is nothing, absolutely nothing that He does not use in my daily life. No incident comes into my life that He does not put there for a purpose, and He is faithful to use the most broken parts of us to bring the most glory to Himself.
What about you? Anything, absolutely anything you're going through, He knows. He's already in there, He's got it under control.
Nothing is wasted.
I was talking to a dear friend of mine last night, who is going through some deep issues within their family. And tears seem to be the easiest response when life seems to go in the opposite direction than we thought it would.
So I shared with her a song that I heard first in another blogger's post.
Nothing is wasted.
And it's incredible for me to look back on that Thing That Took Me Away. It doesn't cause hurt or pain or bitterness when I recall it, though. Instead, I see the entire situation gilded with glory and creased with signs of care by One who knew exactly what He was doing.
Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing. (James 1:2-4, NLT)
Having a sister who was considered by some to be disabled for a time? Gave me a heart for those the world see as disabled, and enabled God to show me a passion I didn't know was there.
Not being able to go to the MK boarding school in the capital city that I was looking forward to? Being placed in a school that allowed me to learn how to play the flute and tour with a choir for three years, plus many other opportunities, eventually leading to going to Millar.
Having an interview yesterday and it immediately ending after hearing that I've committed to going to Bible Camp this summer? Provides a way for God to work in something that's building up to blow me away with His grace.
If I just allow myself to see it that way, instead of what the surface seems like. It's sometimes easy to forget that He still knows what He's doing.
Each day, when I come upon those small disappointments or hard conversations or burdens from a friend, He is the only One who can hold and gather each broken piece.
His Arms are big enough, and His heart is deep enough.
There is nothing, absolutely nothing that He does not use in my daily life. No incident comes into my life that He does not put there for a purpose, and He is faithful to use the most broken parts of us to bring the most glory to Himself.
What about you? Anything, absolutely anything you're going through, He knows. He's already in there, He's got it under control.
Nothing is wasted.
Thursday, April 18
A Paradox
It's one of those things that I've always struggled with and a friend showed me something she had written that really made me stop and smile and ponder the paradox once again...
The little girl peeked into the room - eyes wide. And she was right to be amazed, for she was looking into the very throne room of God Almighty! All around she saw angels, cherubim, seraphim and other beings whose only task was to glorify God. They were fantastic to behold and so totally foreign to the little girl that she shrunk back. Then she saw what they were doing. All of the array of angels and creatures in the little girl's view were doing exactly the same thing - they were bowing down and crying out, "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty!"
Finally the little girl's attention was caught by the one she'd come looking for. On His throne that I looked as if it were made of sapphire was God Almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth, and He was beckoning to her. The little girl squealed and ran to Him - heedless of the countless others in the room. The Lord laughed as He called her name and scooped her up in His arms. His voice - like the sound of rushing water - and her little bell-like laugh blended into each other to create one of His favourite sounds - Joy and Love. "I love you, my little princess," He said as He sat back down, still holding her in His arms. His attention was all hers as she smiled up into His face. "I love you too," she replied as she snuggled into His lap - completely content.
{by Bethany Unrau}
Come in awe and yet with confidence... what a mystery.
One that we're called to revel in.
The little girl peeked into the room - eyes wide. And she was right to be amazed, for she was looking into the very throne room of God Almighty! All around she saw angels, cherubim, seraphim and other beings whose only task was to glorify God. They were fantastic to behold and so totally foreign to the little girl that she shrunk back. Then she saw what they were doing. All of the array of angels and creatures in the little girl's view were doing exactly the same thing - they were bowing down and crying out, "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty!"
Finally the little girl's attention was caught by the one she'd come looking for. On His throne that I looked as if it were made of sapphire was God Almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth, and He was beckoning to her. The little girl squealed and ran to Him - heedless of the countless others in the room. The Lord laughed as He called her name and scooped her up in His arms. His voice - like the sound of rushing water - and her little bell-like laugh blended into each other to create one of His favourite sounds - Joy and Love. "I love you, my little princess," He said as He sat back down, still holding her in His arms. His attention was all hers as she smiled up into His face. "I love you too," she replied as she snuggled into His lap - completely content.
{by Bethany Unrau}
Come in awe and yet with confidence... what a mystery.
One that we're called to revel in.
Friday, April 5
In Easter
Just as I wrote about in my last post, recently I've been learning a lot about what it means to be not enough.
And as I headed home for Easter weekend, I fell under the illusion (as I have a tendency to do) that God is chained to the places that I've encountered Him.
So often I can come into His presence with greater ease when it's a familiar place that when entered brings back memories of lessons in the past that He's taught me.
As a result, when I switch places, I have to go through the whole mental game of reminding myself that He is with me everywhere I go.
The weekend was great. But as I entered church on Easter Sunday morning, I was feeling dimly lit, as if I hadn't encountered God the way that I wanted to during this season. As if I couldn't feel Him.
But as the service went by, it was if the common thread of His lessons to me recently was whispered in my head over and over again.
Easter is all about not being enough.
The reason He came? The reason He died?
I am not enough. But He is.
There is no way that I can face a holy God with anything in my hands that would convince Him to let me near His perfectness.
I am filth from the inside out, coated in the molasses texture of sins that I have deluded myself are not really that bad.
Coming into His presence while those drip off of me and pollute the white halls of His holiness?
Not going to happen.
And so He sent His Son. The only One who was enough.
That One who is everything, became nothing so that I might become whole.
And as we dyed Easter eggs, turning them from white to scribbled with hope,
I realized afresh how He takes one life and not only justifies (declares not guilty),
but in His good will, chooses to sanctify that life.
Taking the little moments of each day, the trials and the heartache, the joys and delights,
And crafts each on of us into something that He delights in.
Something that brings Him glory.
I am not enough. I could never do this on my own.
But He can. And He does.
And that's why there's Easter.
And as I headed home for Easter weekend, I fell under the illusion (as I have a tendency to do) that God is chained to the places that I've encountered Him.
So often I can come into His presence with greater ease when it's a familiar place that when entered brings back memories of lessons in the past that He's taught me.
As a result, when I switch places, I have to go through the whole mental game of reminding myself that He is with me everywhere I go.
The weekend was great. But as I entered church on Easter Sunday morning, I was feeling dimly lit, as if I hadn't encountered God the way that I wanted to during this season. As if I couldn't feel Him.
But as the service went by, it was if the common thread of His lessons to me recently was whispered in my head over and over again.
Easter is all about not being enough.
The reason He came? The reason He died?
I am not enough. But He is.
There is no way that I can face a holy God with anything in my hands that would convince Him to let me near His perfectness.
I am filth from the inside out, coated in the molasses texture of sins that I have deluded myself are not really that bad.
Coming into His presence while those drip off of me and pollute the white halls of His holiness?
Not going to happen.
And so He sent His Son. The only One who was enough.
That One who is everything, became nothing so that I might become whole.
And as we dyed Easter eggs, turning them from white to scribbled with hope,
I realized afresh how He takes one life and not only justifies (declares not guilty),
but in His good will, chooses to sanctify that life.
Taking the little moments of each day, the trials and the heartache, the joys and delights,
And crafts each on of us into something that He delights in.
Something that brings Him glory.
I am not enough. I could never do this on my own.
But He can. And He does.
And that's why there's Easter.
Tuesday, March 26
All
It seems as if it's only on my Eeyore days that I blog... either that or days when there is quiet.
Or maybe it's simply because it seems like in every moment, I am being taught new things and if I kept a list to blog about, I would never get around to it.
Anywhos...
Recently, I was approached with a position for next year that requires leadership on my knees... and as I was contemplating the delightful burden that will be laid upon me next year, there was one devotional time where I was thinking about all that could happen and all that could fail and I reached a point.
A point where I had to say, "There is absolutely nothing in me that can inspire a dorm full of girls towards passionate prayer."
And a moment later, I whispered the words that He showed me. I whispered, "But that's the whole point, isn't it? That I can't. I am utterly unable. But you are totally capable. You can."
All He's looking for is a vessel. A person who is willing to be used even in ways that may seem ridiculous. Someone willing to hang on His every word and to move in His ways.
In leadership, I am called to be lead by a greater Leader. I am called to humility.
Over the last few days as I've been praying more and mulling things over, there was a time when He seemed to bop me over the head and say, "Umm.. excuse me? Isn't that what I've called you to do in every part of your life?"
Somehow I fall into the disillusion that I can do it all. That somehow I take what He teaches me and apply it to my life and get wisdom from Him and apply it in my life, and that's a part of it, but I've forgotten the part of letting go.
Of drawing near, so that I disappear and He appears in every action, thought and word. All I'm supposed to be is a human skin willing to be moved by His voice.
I used to think those people who were so attuned to Him were taking it a little too seriously and leaving fun behind, but there is no way that someone can claim to be consumed with God if they're not willing to lay down everything.
And you know what? There is so much joy, so much foundation, so much rightness when He's the center of everything.
There's no way that I've got things figured out - and there's such a paradox between me carrying out the work that He has laid before me and letting His Spirit move, but when I'm in His presence, it all sorts itself out.
I'm called to transparency, so that He may become apparent.
I'm called to nothingness, so that He may be all.
"Each time he said, "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." So now i am glad to boast about my weakness, so that the power of Christ can work through me." {2 Corinthians 12:9}
{Just found this song today and thought that it's so often what I miss when coming into His presence - to be a little child in my Father's arms}
Or maybe it's simply because it seems like in every moment, I am being taught new things and if I kept a list to blog about, I would never get around to it.
Anywhos...
Recently, I was approached with a position for next year that requires leadership on my knees... and as I was contemplating the delightful burden that will be laid upon me next year, there was one devotional time where I was thinking about all that could happen and all that could fail and I reached a point.
A point where I had to say, "There is absolutely nothing in me that can inspire a dorm full of girls towards passionate prayer."
And a moment later, I whispered the words that He showed me. I whispered, "But that's the whole point, isn't it? That I can't. I am utterly unable. But you are totally capable. You can."
All He's looking for is a vessel. A person who is willing to be used even in ways that may seem ridiculous. Someone willing to hang on His every word and to move in His ways.
In leadership, I am called to be lead by a greater Leader. I am called to humility.
Over the last few days as I've been praying more and mulling things over, there was a time when He seemed to bop me over the head and say, "Umm.. excuse me? Isn't that what I've called you to do in every part of your life?"
Somehow I fall into the disillusion that I can do it all. That somehow I take what He teaches me and apply it to my life and get wisdom from Him and apply it in my life, and that's a part of it, but I've forgotten the part of letting go.
Of drawing near, so that I disappear and He appears in every action, thought and word. All I'm supposed to be is a human skin willing to be moved by His voice.
I used to think those people who were so attuned to Him were taking it a little too seriously and leaving fun behind, but there is no way that someone can claim to be consumed with God if they're not willing to lay down everything.
And you know what? There is so much joy, so much foundation, so much rightness when He's the center of everything.
There's no way that I've got things figured out - and there's such a paradox between me carrying out the work that He has laid before me and letting His Spirit move, but when I'm in His presence, it all sorts itself out.
I'm called to transparency, so that He may become apparent.
I'm called to nothingness, so that He may be all.
"Each time he said, "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." So now i am glad to boast about my weakness, so that the power of Christ can work through me." {2 Corinthians 12:9}
{Just found this song today and thought that it's so often what I miss when coming into His presence - to be a little child in my Father's arms}
Monday, March 4
In A Milestone
Another year gone and past, and I sit here in amazement, shaking my head at all that He's brought me through.
Read this verse this morning:
"But whatever I am now, it is all because God poured out his special favor on me -- and not without results. For I have worked harder than any of the other apostles; yet it was not I but God who was working through me by his grace." (1 Cor. 15:10, NLT)
And wrote this:
Looking back, there is no way that I can take credit for the place I am spiritually. I would've never chosen of myself to go through suffering or hardships and yet it's all because of them that I'm in the place I am today. Good thing it's in His hands and not mine!
And I could be all verbose and wonderfully descriptive, and bring tears to your eyes because of His goodness (okay, I could only attempt and hope, but still...), but there's nothing more to say.
He is good.
And He is faithful.
Read this verse this morning:
"But whatever I am now, it is all because God poured out his special favor on me -- and not without results. For I have worked harder than any of the other apostles; yet it was not I but God who was working through me by his grace." (1 Cor. 15:10, NLT)
And wrote this:
Looking back, there is no way that I can take credit for the place I am spiritually. I would've never chosen of myself to go through suffering or hardships and yet it's all because of them that I'm in the place I am today. Good thing it's in His hands and not mine!
And I could be all verbose and wonderfully descriptive, and bring tears to your eyes because of His goodness (okay, I could only attempt and hope, but still...), but there's nothing more to say.
He is good.
And He is faithful.
Tuesday, February 19
By My Side
Project-oriented.
A new word I have recently found to describe myself.
How? I like to fix things and to get things from start to finish. That includes school projects, situations in other people's lives, other people themselves and my own spiritual life.
Yup.
Doesn't work so well with those things that refuse fixing. Things that undulate up and down and never seem to hold a steady place because, I need to face it, humankind is humankind.
We have our up days, we have our down days, we even have our inside-out days.
And when it comes to my spiritual life, I wish that I could go from area to area, or spiritual fruit to spiritual fruit, work on one until it comes to fruition and then move on to another.
But I find that as soon as I try to do that, I look back and see that the area I just left has already fallen into dis-array.
I'm not perfect.
You don't say.
And being home has had it's ups and downs as well. One one side, I'd say that I adjusted to being home the best out of any break so far. I feel as if I'm back in the home groove once more. One the other hand, the struggle of bringing Millar habits and integrating them into my home life.
I fail. I fall.
And I beat myself up until I remember.... it's not about me.
If I was enough to make myself perfect, there was no reason for Him to come. I am striving to earn grace, and that doesn't work. So as I listen to words of truth, I bask in the knowledge that I am not enough, but that He is. And He is always by my side.
A new word I have recently found to describe myself.
How? I like to fix things and to get things from start to finish. That includes school projects, situations in other people's lives, other people themselves and my own spiritual life.
Yup.
Doesn't work so well with those things that refuse fixing. Things that undulate up and down and never seem to hold a steady place because, I need to face it, humankind is humankind.
We have our up days, we have our down days, we even have our inside-out days.
And when it comes to my spiritual life, I wish that I could go from area to area, or spiritual fruit to spiritual fruit, work on one until it comes to fruition and then move on to another.
But I find that as soon as I try to do that, I look back and see that the area I just left has already fallen into dis-array.
I'm not perfect.
You don't say.
And being home has had it's ups and downs as well. One one side, I'd say that I adjusted to being home the best out of any break so far. I feel as if I'm back in the home groove once more. One the other hand, the struggle of bringing Millar habits and integrating them into my home life.
I fail. I fall.
And I beat myself up until I remember.... it's not about me.
If I was enough to make myself perfect, there was no reason for Him to come. I am striving to earn grace, and that doesn't work. So as I listen to words of truth, I bask in the knowledge that I am not enough, but that He is. And He is always by my side.
Tuesday, February 12
Eli
Last weekend, our soccer team had the privilege of leading the service at one of the surrounding churches as part of our field education. Some of us helped with worship, one preached a sermon for his homiletics course, and still others led the children's time.
And as soon as they were up at front and the storybook was revealed, I settled back into my seat prepared to sit through another heart-warming reading of a Max Lucado book.
You are Special. Although the rendition included laughs, it struck a chord in me that I hadn't realized needed to be struck.
The story of one young boy who finds himself unable to live up to the expectations of the community, covered in grey dots instead of sparkly stars, judged for the things that he cannot accomplish.
A young girl who has none, and to whom none can stick, and a secret revealed.
Every day, I go and see Eli.
And out of desperation, and yet with trembling and fear this young Wemmick approaches the doorway to the carpenter's shop and pauses a moment.
Then he hears something. A voice. The sound of his maker calling his name.
"How good to see you." And the conversation continues, until the Creator comments on the marks that the Wemmick bears. Ready to defend himself, the Wemmick is surprised to hear Him say, "Oh, you don't have to defend yourself to me, child. I don't care about what the other Wemmicks think."
Although there are so many lessons that can be gleaned from this book, there are a few lines from their conversation that really stuck with me.
"Because you're mine. That's why you matter to me. Every day, I've been hoping that you would come... the more you trust my love, the less you care about their stickers."
"Just come to see me everyday and let me remind you how much I care."
And a craving arose in me as the story finished. To meet with my Creator as he had met with his. To view time with God as an escape, a refuge, a place where my priorities are rearranged and where my eyes are opened so that I realize how little value the labels of this world really hold.
So often I view my devotions as something that is scheduled in, something that I occasionally delight in, something I meet with God in, and yet something that I view as have-to-do.
A chance? An opportunity? An escape from this world? Not really.
Today in chapel, our student body president shared something that compounded this message. He shared how so often in his life he found that he had made his faith about the Gospel + whatever. That he felt that if he didn't do enough good works, he would someday be shamed. That there was this striving and reaching for something instead of rest.
Because that's what we're called to do. Rest.
Rest in the fact that our heavenly Father could never love us more than He does at this moment.
Let that sink in.
It's a truth that I so often let fade away into the background and soon I am back to trying to please God with all the good things that I do, all the while failing to realize that He delights in me.
Yes, I continue to do good things, but as an outpouring of the love that He shows me, rather than as a way to be able to be worthy.
And that's the key.
I am not worthy. Never have been. Never will be.
But He has made me worthy.
And how foolish to negate the worthiness of Christ that is now given to me, simply by striving to do it on my own although I know that it has never worked in the past, so why should I think it will work now?
That is why I fail to come. I fail to realize His love. The longing He has for me, not because of my own merit, but because of Christ's.
I want to come as a little child to the office of my Father. To be in awe of all that He is and yet to climb with joy and anticipation into that huge lap and to be cradled in those strong arms. To simply be, and to tell of my sorrows, and to be willing to be reprimanded. To want to stay as long as I can, instead of think of how soon I can escape.
I want to be with Eli.
And as soon as they were up at front and the storybook was revealed, I settled back into my seat prepared to sit through another heart-warming reading of a Max Lucado book.
You are Special. Although the rendition included laughs, it struck a chord in me that I hadn't realized needed to be struck.
The story of one young boy who finds himself unable to live up to the expectations of the community, covered in grey dots instead of sparkly stars, judged for the things that he cannot accomplish.
A young girl who has none, and to whom none can stick, and a secret revealed.
Every day, I go and see Eli.
And out of desperation, and yet with trembling and fear this young Wemmick approaches the doorway to the carpenter's shop and pauses a moment.
Then he hears something. A voice. The sound of his maker calling his name.
"How good to see you." And the conversation continues, until the Creator comments on the marks that the Wemmick bears. Ready to defend himself, the Wemmick is surprised to hear Him say, "Oh, you don't have to defend yourself to me, child. I don't care about what the other Wemmicks think."
Although there are so many lessons that can be gleaned from this book, there are a few lines from their conversation that really stuck with me.
"Because you're mine. That's why you matter to me. Every day, I've been hoping that you would come... the more you trust my love, the less you care about their stickers."
"Just come to see me everyday and let me remind you how much I care."
And a craving arose in me as the story finished. To meet with my Creator as he had met with his. To view time with God as an escape, a refuge, a place where my priorities are rearranged and where my eyes are opened so that I realize how little value the labels of this world really hold.
So often I view my devotions as something that is scheduled in, something that I occasionally delight in, something I meet with God in, and yet something that I view as have-to-do.
A chance? An opportunity? An escape from this world? Not really.
Today in chapel, our student body president shared something that compounded this message. He shared how so often in his life he found that he had made his faith about the Gospel + whatever. That he felt that if he didn't do enough good works, he would someday be shamed. That there was this striving and reaching for something instead of rest.
Because that's what we're called to do. Rest.
Rest in the fact that our heavenly Father could never love us more than He does at this moment.
Let that sink in.
It's a truth that I so often let fade away into the background and soon I am back to trying to please God with all the good things that I do, all the while failing to realize that He delights in me.
Yes, I continue to do good things, but as an outpouring of the love that He shows me, rather than as a way to be able to be worthy.
And that's the key.
I am not worthy. Never have been. Never will be.
But He has made me worthy.
And how foolish to negate the worthiness of Christ that is now given to me, simply by striving to do it on my own although I know that it has never worked in the past, so why should I think it will work now?
That is why I fail to come. I fail to realize His love. The longing He has for me, not because of my own merit, but because of Christ's.
I want to come as a little child to the office of my Father. To be in awe of all that He is and yet to climb with joy and anticipation into that huge lap and to be cradled in those strong arms. To simply be, and to tell of my sorrows, and to be willing to be reprimanded. To want to stay as long as I can, instead of think of how soon I can escape.
I want to be with Eli.
Thursday, February 7
Captivating
{I find that blogging is often something I postpone doing simply for lack of time to craft words in the way that I want them to be crafted... but really? That's pride. So here's to more regular posts about random things!}
I was given a sheet of paper at the beginning of the school year with quotes from John and Stasi Eldredge's book Captivating on it. A week or so ago, I took the time to read through and meditate on the concepts that it brought forth in relation to my life.
"Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, ti should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight." ~1 Peter 3:3-4
This has always been one of those verses that bites. every. single. time. I feel as if this is a concept that I will continually struggle with throughout my life, because let's face it, I like to dress up. I like to wear nice clothing and attractive outfits, but when I look deeper, I see that the heart of the issue is that I like attention. And that, my friends, is pride. As is written so many places in Scripture, we are never to boast in self, but only in Christ.
The more 'His' we become, the more ourselves we become, more our true selves. Peter doesn't say that beautiful women rarely speak above a whisper, if they speak at all. No. To have a gentle and quiet spirit is to have a heart of faith, a heart that trusts God, a spirit that has been quieted by His love and filled with His peace. Not a hear that is striving and restless.
Have you ever had that gnawing feeling, that although you shouldn't think it, sometimes you wonder if you're losing out by doing things His way? And that's the thought that's been indoctrinated into us through advertising and the sinful world. We think that somehow, through being taught how to truly live life by the Giver of life, we'll somehow miss out on life. Crazy.
And that pride? See, the whole fact that I want attention is where I need to target the problem. I need to be content in His love and I love the phrase "a spirit that has been quieted by His love." I am called to no longer strive to find purpose or placement or peace, but to look only to Him, to know that I am loved and lovely.
A woman in her glory, a woman of beauty, is a woman who is not striving to become beautiful or worthy or enough. She knows in her quiet center where God dwells that He finds where beautiful, has deemed her worthy, and in Him, she is enough. In fact, the only thing getting in the way of our being fully captivating and enjoyed is our hiding and striving.
I am enough. I need to stop striving.
"He will quiet you with His love" Zeph 3:17. A woman of true beauty is a woman who in the depths of her soul is at rest; trusting God because she has come to know Him to be worthy of her trust. She exudes a sense of calm; a sense of rest; and invites those around her to rest as well. She speaks comfort; that all is well; that all will be well. A woman of true beauty offers others the grace to be and the room to become. In her presence, one can release the tight sigh that so often grips our hearts, and breathe in the truth that God loves us and He is good.
I long so much to be that quiet presence. To speak with wisdom and to be at that center of rest. It's all about being content in His love. No longer striving. No longer wondering. No longer running after other's approval.
You see, ultimately, a woman invites us to know God. To experience through her that God is merciful. That He is tender and kind. That God longs for us -- to be known by us and to know us. She invites us to experience that God is good, deep, lovely, alluring, captivating.
Sometimes I wake up in the morning and worry. Worry about how I appear to others, worry about what others think of me... worry about who I am. But that very worry undermines the goodness of the God who crafted me.
And I long to be captivating and to be captivated by that love that shaped me, that love that quiets me, that love that tells me that I no longer need to strive, that I am enough.
I was given a sheet of paper at the beginning of the school year with quotes from John and Stasi Eldredge's book Captivating on it. A week or so ago, I took the time to read through and meditate on the concepts that it brought forth in relation to my life.
"Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, ti should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight." ~1 Peter 3:3-4
This has always been one of those verses that bites. every. single. time. I feel as if this is a concept that I will continually struggle with throughout my life, because let's face it, I like to dress up. I like to wear nice clothing and attractive outfits, but when I look deeper, I see that the heart of the issue is that I like attention. And that, my friends, is pride. As is written so many places in Scripture, we are never to boast in self, but only in Christ.
The more 'His' we become, the more ourselves we become, more our true selves. Peter doesn't say that beautiful women rarely speak above a whisper, if they speak at all. No. To have a gentle and quiet spirit is to have a heart of faith, a heart that trusts God, a spirit that has been quieted by His love and filled with His peace. Not a hear that is striving and restless.
Have you ever had that gnawing feeling, that although you shouldn't think it, sometimes you wonder if you're losing out by doing things His way? And that's the thought that's been indoctrinated into us through advertising and the sinful world. We think that somehow, through being taught how to truly live life by the Giver of life, we'll somehow miss out on life. Crazy.
And that pride? See, the whole fact that I want attention is where I need to target the problem. I need to be content in His love and I love the phrase "a spirit that has been quieted by His love." I am called to no longer strive to find purpose or placement or peace, but to look only to Him, to know that I am loved and lovely.
A woman in her glory, a woman of beauty, is a woman who is not striving to become beautiful or worthy or enough. She knows in her quiet center where God dwells that He finds where beautiful, has deemed her worthy, and in Him, she is enough. In fact, the only thing getting in the way of our being fully captivating and enjoyed is our hiding and striving.
I am enough. I need to stop striving.
"He will quiet you with His love" Zeph 3:17. A woman of true beauty is a woman who in the depths of her soul is at rest; trusting God because she has come to know Him to be worthy of her trust. She exudes a sense of calm; a sense of rest; and invites those around her to rest as well. She speaks comfort; that all is well; that all will be well. A woman of true beauty offers others the grace to be and the room to become. In her presence, one can release the tight sigh that so often grips our hearts, and breathe in the truth that God loves us and He is good.
I long so much to be that quiet presence. To speak with wisdom and to be at that center of rest. It's all about being content in His love. No longer striving. No longer wondering. No longer running after other's approval.
You see, ultimately, a woman invites us to know God. To experience through her that God is merciful. That He is tender and kind. That God longs for us -- to be known by us and to know us. She invites us to experience that God is good, deep, lovely, alluring, captivating.
Sometimes I wake up in the morning and worry. Worry about how I appear to others, worry about what others think of me... worry about who I am. But that very worry undermines the goodness of the God who crafted me.
And I long to be captivating and to be captivated by that love that shaped me, that love that quiets me, that love that tells me that I no longer need to strive, that I am enough.
Wednesday, January 30
Sweeter
There's always so much to running through my mind and processing going inside my heart, but so little time and so inadequate vocabulary to put down what I learn.
Missions Conference, a second day of prayer and all the little moments that come and go in between, plus my daily devotions.
But something that I've been finding more and more each day as I come before Him is how to seek. How to pursue while still being content with what I know.
Some really good insights came from one of my textbooks that I cracked open during day of prayer - The Pursuit of God by A.W. Tozer.
Often when I think of pursuing God, what comes to mind is not a finding, but rather a grasping that always brushes against a glimmer and then grabs hold of nothing.
When opening up this book, however, written in rich language and resonating a traditional feel, it called me to something that I had longed for before, but could never put into words.
"to seek God does not narrow one's life, but bring it, rather, to the level of highest possible fulfillment" (pg. 6)
Have I been the only one during that one moment of wondering to ponder the question of whether it's all worth it? Whether denying self and seeking after God will all that I am instead of only part of me will really pay off in the end?
Then I look at all the goodness He's brought to my life and all the guilt and shame I feel when I purposely sin and I know the answer is yes. Indubitably yes.
We long for fulfillment. *I* long for fulfillment. And He promises it, to fully fulfill us in ways that we didn't even know we were lacking.
"To have found God and still to pursue Him is the soul's paradox of love, scorned indeed by the too easily satisfied religionist, but justified in happy experience by the children of the burning heart." (pg. 15)
To have found God and still to pursue Him. What a paradox!
"and when they {holy men and women of the past} found Him the finding was all the sweeter for the long seeking." (pg. 15)
Too often I find myself fixating on the goal of finding Him without enjoying the journey. He needs to become the ends and the means, instead of just one or the other. I need to learn to revel in the pursuit,in the learning, in the renewing, and in the finding.
"We have been snared in the coils of a spurious logic which insists that if we have found Him, we need no more seek Him." (pg. 16)
It's scary and yet wonderful to take my eyes off the life-long search of perfection in myself and instead to fixate my eyes on Him whom I will always be discovering more of (which will, incidentally, lead to me being made more and more like Christ).
"They want to taste, to touch with their hearts, to see with their inner eyes the wonder that is God." (pg. 17)
How often I have longed the same thing and have just not been able to express it. I want to know, inside and out, in that moment between being still myself and brushing against something so much bigger, who God is. To revel in His majesty, to rapture in His love, to be known and to know.
"The stiff and wooden quality about our religious lives is a result of our lack of holy desire. Complacency is a deadly foe of all spiritual growth. Acute desire must be present or there will be no manifestation of Christ to His people. He waits to be wanted. Too bad that with many of us He waits so long, so very long, in vain." (pg. 17)
And although I have no words to sum up what I have been learning recently, and although my "connected feelings" towards God change from day to day (and just as often I remind myself that it's not about feelings and then wonder about the balance of the two, etc.), I think that this desire to seek Him out more fully, to always be in pursuit and yet to revel in what I do know of Him and to realize that He wants to be wanted, is what I have been learning recently.
He is so sweet. And He longs to show me just how sweet He can be.
Sweeter than the world, sweeter than sin, sweeter than my own inclinations, sweet enough to be more than bread to me.
I long to constantly pursue, knowing I will find Him sweeter still.
Missions Conference, a second day of prayer and all the little moments that come and go in between, plus my daily devotions.
But something that I've been finding more and more each day as I come before Him is how to seek. How to pursue while still being content with what I know.
Some really good insights came from one of my textbooks that I cracked open during day of prayer - The Pursuit of God by A.W. Tozer.
Often when I think of pursuing God, what comes to mind is not a finding, but rather a grasping that always brushes against a glimmer and then grabs hold of nothing.
When opening up this book, however, written in rich language and resonating a traditional feel, it called me to something that I had longed for before, but could never put into words.
"to seek God does not narrow one's life, but bring it, rather, to the level of highest possible fulfillment" (pg. 6)
Have I been the only one during that one moment of wondering to ponder the question of whether it's all worth it? Whether denying self and seeking after God will all that I am instead of only part of me will really pay off in the end?
Then I look at all the goodness He's brought to my life and all the guilt and shame I feel when I purposely sin and I know the answer is yes. Indubitably yes.
We long for fulfillment. *I* long for fulfillment. And He promises it, to fully fulfill us in ways that we didn't even know we were lacking.
"To have found God and still to pursue Him is the soul's paradox of love, scorned indeed by the too easily satisfied religionist, but justified in happy experience by the children of the burning heart." (pg. 15)
To have found God and still to pursue Him. What a paradox!
"and when they {holy men and women of the past} found Him the finding was all the sweeter for the long seeking." (pg. 15)
Too often I find myself fixating on the goal of finding Him without enjoying the journey. He needs to become the ends and the means, instead of just one or the other. I need to learn to revel in the pursuit,in the learning, in the renewing, and in the finding.
"We have been snared in the coils of a spurious logic which insists that if we have found Him, we need no more seek Him." (pg. 16)
It's scary and yet wonderful to take my eyes off the life-long search of perfection in myself and instead to fixate my eyes on Him whom I will always be discovering more of (which will, incidentally, lead to me being made more and more like Christ).
"They want to taste, to touch with their hearts, to see with their inner eyes the wonder that is God." (pg. 17)
How often I have longed the same thing and have just not been able to express it. I want to know, inside and out, in that moment between being still myself and brushing against something so much bigger, who God is. To revel in His majesty, to rapture in His love, to be known and to know.
"The stiff and wooden quality about our religious lives is a result of our lack of holy desire. Complacency is a deadly foe of all spiritual growth. Acute desire must be present or there will be no manifestation of Christ to His people. He waits to be wanted. Too bad that with many of us He waits so long, so very long, in vain." (pg. 17)
And although I have no words to sum up what I have been learning recently, and although my "connected feelings" towards God change from day to day (and just as often I remind myself that it's not about feelings and then wonder about the balance of the two, etc.), I think that this desire to seek Him out more fully, to always be in pursuit and yet to revel in what I do know of Him and to realize that He wants to be wanted, is what I have been learning recently.
He is so sweet. And He longs to show me just how sweet He can be.
Sweeter than the world, sweeter than sin, sweeter than my own inclinations, sweet enough to be more than bread to me.
I long to constantly pursue, knowing I will find Him sweeter still.
* * * * *
O God, I have tasted Thy goodness, and it has both
satisfied me and made me thirsty for more. I am
painfully aware of my need of further grace.
I am ashamed of my lack of desire. O God, the Triune God,
I want to want Thee; I long to be filled with longing;
I thirst to be made more thirsty still.
Show me Thy glory, I pray Thee, that so I may
know Thee indeed. Begin in mercy a new work
of love within me. Say to my soul, "Rise up, my
love, my fair one, and come away." then give me
grace to rise and follow Thee up from this misty
lowland where I have wandered for so long.
In Jesus' Name.
Amen.
{A.W. Tozer - The Pursuit of God}
Friday, January 11
Freeing
I once heard someone say that balance was the key to everything and it seems to be something that constantly eludes me.
Not only does it apply to various things to which I give my time during the day, but the very thing that my life is based around.
It seems as if I'm either doing very well, or not well at all in my spiritual walk and as I examine my life, there are so many things that I see that I need to work on, while at the same time I find pride in the things that I am somehow managing to keep up, but then I recognize that pride and think I'm not really doing that well, and then around and around it goes.
With the start of a new year, it's easy to sit down and to examine different things within my life and see how much I'm lacking.
Prayer life? Meh... could be better.
Devotions? They happen, but I need to learn how to come with expectation instead of with duty.
Living out my faith? Should really take more risks...
And on and on it goes. The more I look at my life, the more I realize that I will never be perfect and that can sometimes lead to a feeling of "Well, what's the use?"
And 1 Peter 1:16 answers me: "For the Scriptures say, 'You must be holy because I am holy.'"
It becomes about my works as I strive for this holiness... as I strive to seek out His kingdom.
There's only one thing wrong... I'm doing it on my own strength.
I was drawn to the book of Galatians a little while ago by the summary offered by my Bible at the beginning, which focused around the intent of the letter being to show the Galatians that since they had been set free by Christ's sacrifice, they were no longer required to follow the law.
And as I've been reading and have now reached the end of chapter 4 today, I have been struck by the message that Paul is trying to get through the Galatians' (and my) thick skull: We can do nothing. He does everything.
I once had someone tell me that sin is the only thing we contribute to our salvation and it rings true.
Chapter 3: 3 brings it to a head: "How foolish can you be? After starting your Christian lives in the Spirit, why are you now trying to become perfect by your own human effort?"
Ouch.
"So it is clear that no one can be made right with God by trying to keep the law. For the Scriptures say, 'It is through faith that a righteous person has life.' This way of faith is very different from the way of the law, which says, 'It is through obeying the law that a person has life.'" (3:11-12)
Faith.
Faith that I cannot accomplish perfection, but that Christ can and has. Faith that that freedom extends to me today, breaking me free from trying to do it on my own.
Free.
I have always struggled with the conundrum of how to allow God to be the One working in my life and how to uphold my part of the deal so that I'm not just saying, "Oh, if God wants to do any work in my life, it's up to Him."
Yes, it's up to Him and yet I have to be willing to be freed. Willing to let go of this illusion that somehow I can do it on my own.
Letting go of the illusion of freedom and falling into the arms of the true Freedom.
Not only does it apply to various things to which I give my time during the day, but the very thing that my life is based around.
It seems as if I'm either doing very well, or not well at all in my spiritual walk and as I examine my life, there are so many things that I see that I need to work on, while at the same time I find pride in the things that I am somehow managing to keep up, but then I recognize that pride and think I'm not really doing that well, and then around and around it goes.
With the start of a new year, it's easy to sit down and to examine different things within my life and see how much I'm lacking.
Prayer life? Meh... could be better.
Devotions? They happen, but I need to learn how to come with expectation instead of with duty.
Living out my faith? Should really take more risks...
And on and on it goes. The more I look at my life, the more I realize that I will never be perfect and that can sometimes lead to a feeling of "Well, what's the use?"
And 1 Peter 1:16 answers me: "For the Scriptures say, 'You must be holy because I am holy.'"
It becomes about my works as I strive for this holiness... as I strive to seek out His kingdom.
There's only one thing wrong... I'm doing it on my own strength.
I was drawn to the book of Galatians a little while ago by the summary offered by my Bible at the beginning, which focused around the intent of the letter being to show the Galatians that since they had been set free by Christ's sacrifice, they were no longer required to follow the law.
And as I've been reading and have now reached the end of chapter 4 today, I have been struck by the message that Paul is trying to get through the Galatians' (and my) thick skull: We can do nothing. He does everything.
I once had someone tell me that sin is the only thing we contribute to our salvation and it rings true.
Chapter 3: 3 brings it to a head: "How foolish can you be? After starting your Christian lives in the Spirit, why are you now trying to become perfect by your own human effort?"
Ouch.
"So it is clear that no one can be made right with God by trying to keep the law. For the Scriptures say, 'It is through faith that a righteous person has life.' This way of faith is very different from the way of the law, which says, 'It is through obeying the law that a person has life.'" (3:11-12)
Faith.
Faith that I cannot accomplish perfection, but that Christ can and has. Faith that that freedom extends to me today, breaking me free from trying to do it on my own.
Free.
I have always struggled with the conundrum of how to allow God to be the One working in my life and how to uphold my part of the deal so that I'm not just saying, "Oh, if God wants to do any work in my life, it's up to Him."
Yes, it's up to Him and yet I have to be willing to be freed. Willing to let go of this illusion that somehow I can do it on my own.
Letting go of the illusion of freedom and falling into the arms of the true Freedom.
Friday, December 21
Bread
I was able to go to the last Quizzing practice here in town before Christmas break and the chapter they were studying this week was Matthew 15.
The person who was giving the devotional spent a little bit of time on the beginning stories but focused on the feeding of the 4,000.
And he asked a question that I had never really stopped to think about. Why did the disciples gather up the leftover food?
Suggestions were tossed around as we all contemplated the question. Maybe to show how big the miracle really was, or because the disciples were taught well by their moms never to waste food, or...
The lesson moved on as he talked about Jesus commanding them to pick up the food when He fed the 5,000 just a chapter earlier, although His command is only recorded in John's version.
He brought our attention to the bread mentioned earlier in Matthew 15, when the Canaanite woman pleads for Him to heal her daughter from demon-possession because "even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master's table."
Broadening the horizons, he talked about the Jesus connecting the feeding of the crowds to the giving of the manna in the desert. Every day for 40 years, they were sustained because of this miraculous bread that fell from the heavens.
They had left Egypt and had turned to one of their favourite habits, complaining. Among those complaints was the food and in response, God gave them manna and quail.
He satisfied their hunger and their doubt in Him.
And the leader drew the discussion back to the point where Jesus declares, "I am the Bread of Life." I honestly don't know where he went with it after this, but I remember the one thing that struck me about all of the situations that were strung together and the picture that I saw in all of them: His sufficiency.
He provided manna in the desert to a people just recently rescued and yet still crying out to be fed.
He provided Himself to a people to whom the Law was given but who could not be saved by following it, and they too were crying out to be fed.
And God answered their cry. Out of His infinite love and incredible mercy, He fed. He fed these hungry people with the true Bread. The Bread of Life that was broken for all mankind. His Son.
This season celebrates Jesus' birth, yes. It celebrates His life and His eventual journey to the cross and His resurrection, yes. But it also celebrates who He is today, the true Bread, the only One who can truly fill each and every human and to fully satisfy the craving for wholeness that sin causes.
He is our only remedy. He is our only true satisfaction.
He is the Bread of Life.
And I have to wonder whether another reason that Jesus commanded His disciples to gather up the leftover bread and fish was to show them that very same thing. That in everything, He is all-sufficient. We have nothing to worry when the One who can multiply fish and bread is on our side.
Not only do we not have to worry about our physical needs, but we can know that our spiritual needs are met to the full. Not only to the full, but overflowing, as His disciples found out.
Nothing in the world can satisfy, nothing can fill us to the full, nothing can bring us ultimate satisfaction, except one thing:
Jesus, the true Bread of Life.
The person who was giving the devotional spent a little bit of time on the beginning stories but focused on the feeding of the 4,000.
And he asked a question that I had never really stopped to think about. Why did the disciples gather up the leftover food?
Suggestions were tossed around as we all contemplated the question. Maybe to show how big the miracle really was, or because the disciples were taught well by their moms never to waste food, or...
The lesson moved on as he talked about Jesus commanding them to pick up the food when He fed the 5,000 just a chapter earlier, although His command is only recorded in John's version.
He brought our attention to the bread mentioned earlier in Matthew 15, when the Canaanite woman pleads for Him to heal her daughter from demon-possession because "even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the master's table."
Broadening the horizons, he talked about the Jesus connecting the feeding of the crowds to the giving of the manna in the desert. Every day for 40 years, they were sustained because of this miraculous bread that fell from the heavens.
They had left Egypt and had turned to one of their favourite habits, complaining. Among those complaints was the food and in response, God gave them manna and quail.
He satisfied their hunger and their doubt in Him.
And the leader drew the discussion back to the point where Jesus declares, "I am the Bread of Life." I honestly don't know where he went with it after this, but I remember the one thing that struck me about all of the situations that were strung together and the picture that I saw in all of them: His sufficiency.
He provided manna in the desert to a people just recently rescued and yet still crying out to be fed.
He provided Himself to a people to whom the Law was given but who could not be saved by following it, and they too were crying out to be fed.
And God answered their cry. Out of His infinite love and incredible mercy, He fed. He fed these hungry people with the true Bread. The Bread of Life that was broken for all mankind. His Son.
This season celebrates Jesus' birth, yes. It celebrates His life and His eventual journey to the cross and His resurrection, yes. But it also celebrates who He is today, the true Bread, the only One who can truly fill each and every human and to fully satisfy the craving for wholeness that sin causes.
He is our only remedy. He is our only true satisfaction.
He is the Bread of Life.
And I have to wonder whether another reason that Jesus commanded His disciples to gather up the leftover bread and fish was to show them that very same thing. That in everything, He is all-sufficient. We have nothing to worry when the One who can multiply fish and bread is on our side.
Not only do we not have to worry about our physical needs, but we can know that our spiritual needs are met to the full. Not only to the full, but overflowing, as His disciples found out.
Nothing in the world can satisfy, nothing can fill us to the full, nothing can bring us ultimate satisfaction, except one thing:
Jesus, the true Bread of Life.
Tuesday, December 18
In The Past
To Cece (my younger self):
I met you this evening, while sorting through the remnants of my past. Fingering through papers you wrote on with all the heart a little girl could muster.
I opened the stickers you so lovingly placed on little notes that you passed to your sister when she was having a bad day. Notes that make me chuckle. You are so dear to me, your heart shining through in every word, with her foremost on your heart. Have I unknowingly closed that shutter to an open heart? Every one of those notes, signed as Cece. I haven't been called that in years.
I read those journal entries from the days before your baptism and your passion and excitement for God's Word make me stand in amazement before a God who chose you at such a young age to be taught so much about what He was and how to know Him.
I flipped through the sketch book you coloured in, pictures of wedding dresses and animals and everything and anything else that filled your mind.
I found the Scripture copy book your grandmother sent you, with the spine cracked and falling apart, the first few pages filled with words that you put inside your heart.
I discovered notes from a little girl that I had forgotten you had such a close relationship with. Someone so much younger than you, yet you reached out and she wrote "I love you" in her scrawls.
I fingered the poems and hymns you copied out and hung around your room, a sign of the incredibly deep understanding that God somehow placed in your heart of who He was. It was nothing you did, and it never could have been, it was all what He chose to do.
I found the keys to your little locked diary and tried to decipher the faded coloured ink from one of your earliest journaling exploits. I read of your loneliness as you couldn't fit in because of your age.
And I see you and I smile and I wonder at how far God has brought me so that I am in the place that I am in right now. I so easily forget about you, I'm sorry to say. That young innocent one, whom God chose to break in so many ways and has brought through the fires hopefully molded more firmly into the image of His Son.
And it brings me back to the days of the jungles, of dancing in the warm rain, of snow chains on tires going through mud, of cocoa breaking, of climbing trees, of swimming in streams, of going to church, of everything that is my past. And it makes me so excited for my future. It makes me excited to meet you again when I return to those places, as I hear your laughter and see things from your eyes again when I go to each of those places that memory now renders hallowed.
It makes me excited about what He has done... and excited for what He will do.
And I find myself so thankful. So utterly and basely grateful for all that He has done. For how He made you, little Cece, and how He continues to grow me.
He didn't have to.... but He did.
Your older (and utterly grateful) self,
Christy
I met you this evening, while sorting through the remnants of my past. Fingering through papers you wrote on with all the heart a little girl could muster.
I opened the stickers you so lovingly placed on little notes that you passed to your sister when she was having a bad day. Notes that make me chuckle. You are so dear to me, your heart shining through in every word, with her foremost on your heart. Have I unknowingly closed that shutter to an open heart? Every one of those notes, signed as Cece. I haven't been called that in years.
I read those journal entries from the days before your baptism and your passion and excitement for God's Word make me stand in amazement before a God who chose you at such a young age to be taught so much about what He was and how to know Him.
I flipped through the sketch book you coloured in, pictures of wedding dresses and animals and everything and anything else that filled your mind.
I found the Scripture copy book your grandmother sent you, with the spine cracked and falling apart, the first few pages filled with words that you put inside your heart.
I discovered notes from a little girl that I had forgotten you had such a close relationship with. Someone so much younger than you, yet you reached out and she wrote "I love you" in her scrawls.
I fingered the poems and hymns you copied out and hung around your room, a sign of the incredibly deep understanding that God somehow placed in your heart of who He was. It was nothing you did, and it never could have been, it was all what He chose to do.
I found the keys to your little locked diary and tried to decipher the faded coloured ink from one of your earliest journaling exploits. I read of your loneliness as you couldn't fit in because of your age.
And I see you and I smile and I wonder at how far God has brought me so that I am in the place that I am in right now. I so easily forget about you, I'm sorry to say. That young innocent one, whom God chose to break in so many ways and has brought through the fires hopefully molded more firmly into the image of His Son.
And it brings me back to the days of the jungles, of dancing in the warm rain, of snow chains on tires going through mud, of cocoa breaking, of climbing trees, of swimming in streams, of going to church, of everything that is my past. And it makes me so excited for my future. It makes me excited to meet you again when I return to those places, as I hear your laughter and see things from your eyes again when I go to each of those places that memory now renders hallowed.
It makes me excited about what He has done... and excited for what He will do.
And I find myself so thankful. So utterly and basely grateful for all that He has done. For how He made you, little Cece, and how He continues to grow me.
He didn't have to.... but He did.
Your older (and utterly grateful) self,
Christy
Monday, December 17
At Home
It's at times like this that I don't even know what to think or feel.
Home is such a complex word. It embodies a sense of comfort, familiarity, a homing point and being with those who mean the most to me. And this home has been my home for the past 5 years, but before that the jungles of Africa were home, and now Millar is my home for months at a time. Over all, this earth is not my home.
And as I walk through the door and get greeted by the familiar faces, hugged by familiar arms, see the changes in the house, move into a bedroom I've never slept in before, get used to the feel of my house again, to the rhythm of this family of mine, it is home.
There is home in the fact that I don't need to explain myself or why my thought process works in a certain way. There is home in the moments where sibling torture ensues, when I chase my little brother in a droid machine while playing Star Wars III Wii games, and in putting Boo to bed. There is home as I sit here, curled up in a chair, watching my sister do homework while I spend time on the crazy fast internet here.
There is home in the chaos here. There is home in the chaos in my heart. There is home in Him, in the way that He's shaping and molding me. There will never truly be a place when I am most at peace and most comfortable and most familiar until I reach heaven, but here on earth that place comes when I rest in His will.
And as I'm at home, I choose to make memories that will last. I choose to not spend my time on this amazingly fast internet and to get involved in my family's life. I'm not here to rest, although I am. I am here to serve, to be pro-active, to live out what I've been living like any other place I could go. And I'll fail, and fall, but He'll pick me up and set me back on the right track and help me to see that I'm here to learn lessons as well as encourage and teach others. This time at home? It's only another learning stage of life. I've learned that there is no such thing as rest in God's eyes. Yes, there is struggle and triumph and failure, but there is always learning.
I want to spend this time at home in the best way possible.
It's actually harder when it's a place where you feel so... at home.
Home is such a complex word. It embodies a sense of comfort, familiarity, a homing point and being with those who mean the most to me. And this home has been my home for the past 5 years, but before that the jungles of Africa were home, and now Millar is my home for months at a time. Over all, this earth is not my home.
And as I walk through the door and get greeted by the familiar faces, hugged by familiar arms, see the changes in the house, move into a bedroom I've never slept in before, get used to the feel of my house again, to the rhythm of this family of mine, it is home.
There is home in the fact that I don't need to explain myself or why my thought process works in a certain way. There is home in the moments where sibling torture ensues, when I chase my little brother in a droid machine while playing Star Wars III Wii games, and in putting Boo to bed. There is home as I sit here, curled up in a chair, watching my sister do homework while I spend time on the crazy fast internet here.
There is home in the chaos here. There is home in the chaos in my heart. There is home in Him, in the way that He's shaping and molding me. There will never truly be a place when I am most at peace and most comfortable and most familiar until I reach heaven, but here on earth that place comes when I rest in His will.
And as I'm at home, I choose to make memories that will last. I choose to not spend my time on this amazingly fast internet and to get involved in my family's life. I'm not here to rest, although I am. I am here to serve, to be pro-active, to live out what I've been living like any other place I could go. And I'll fail, and fall, but He'll pick me up and set me back on the right track and help me to see that I'm here to learn lessons as well as encourage and teach others. This time at home? It's only another learning stage of life. I've learned that there is no such thing as rest in God's eyes. Yes, there is struggle and triumph and failure, but there is always learning.
I want to spend this time at home in the best way possible.
It's actually harder when it's a place where you feel so... at home.
Saturday, November 24
Worthy
So often I find myself caught up in the mundane.
"You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being." (Revelation 4:11, NIV)
I go day by day, not realizing that He has so much more waiting
for me, feeling almost as if I’m intruding when I ask to feel His presence and
that He’ll come near when He feels like it. Other times, it feels as if I’m
chipping away at a rock wall and after a while it gets tiring so I stop and go
about my normal day until it’s time for devotions again.
It’s as if I’m so focused on my own little world that I
cease to realize that He stands before me simply wanting me to rest and come
into His presence and be.
We had a worship night the other night and as the worship
set started, I felt dead. I felt like I didn’t know whether I was going to meet
with God or not. But as the songs kept on coming, it hit me that I was the only
one keeping me from coming near Him. I needed to come with expectation and
realize that He longs to work in the lives of His children.
Sometimes I get caught up in the mundane, and my relationship
with Him becomes a task instead of the thing that the rest of my day rides on.
He is worthy. SO worthy. Of every moment, every thought, every action. It is
not a task or burden to give all of my life over to Him, rather it is a
pleasure. And I can’t do it on my own, I
need to let Him give me new eyes for every day and every situation.
He is the one who has called me to a life that may not be easy by the world's standards, and yet is easy because I do not need to doubt or worry about anything, for I am held in the hands of the ultimate Provider. He is the one who calls me to dance with Him as a daughter dances with her father. He is the one who dries my tears and hears my heart's every cry, He is the one who laughs at my joys and knows my pains. He is the one who has formed my every part, He is the one who has redeemed me from a life of overwhelming sin and brought me to a life of light.
My life is not my own, and I will not begrudge the King of
Kings every aspect of my every day, for He IS worthy.
Tuesday, November 20
Tearing
Getting back into routine yesterday was such a good feeling.
It felt as if I had finally slipped back into the groove that I left when I
went home for semester break.
More than that, God hit me hard with something that I have
often struggled with.
Who am I?
As the mid-terms were handed back and my mark was lower than
those around me and yet by no means anything to be ashamed of, I felt myself
sliding into my oft-visited pit of comparison (synonymous with the pit of
despair, if you would).
There are so many expectations that I place upon myself.
Expectations of what marks I am to get, how organized I should be, how
responsible I should be, how I should look, what my friends should think of me,
even how I should come across in my blog. Not that I spend *forever* preparing
it, but I read it through a good three or four times to make sure that
everything makes sense, that my words are crafted well, and even pat myself on
the shoulder for some good alliteration or some attention grabbing stories.
Then, I anxiously check the number of times that post has been read after a few
days of being posted on FB. How sad am I?
And when one of those personal expectations I hold for
myself is torn down, it hurts a lot. And although I’ve placed my academic life
at His feet over and over and over and over and over again, every time I keep
one fingernail hooked in it and drag it towards myself again.
As I stared at my mark and flipped through the test to see
what I had gotten wrong, He held me from slipping into that pit of despair and
made me think.
Who am I?
Who am I when all of my pre-conceived notions of what I
should be are stripped away? Who am I when all my talents are incomparable to
others or are not receiving notice? Who am I when I roll out of bed with greasy
hair and acne and humongous pjs?
Am I fully His? Are my days consumed with making Him look
better than me?
Not, as the saying goes, thinking less of myself, but
thinking of myself less.
What does a heart after God’s own heart look like? Am I
living every moment in a true conviction of who God has made me to be? Am I
secure in the way that He has created me? Are the various facets of my life
reflecting Him?
That test hurt. And the conviction about so many areas in my
life where I fail to honour Him left me feeling flaky and like a pretty
empty-shell.
He is all I need, and so often I find myself creating my
identity apart from Him. It’s not that He’s only sufficient for all that I
could ever need, He’s overflowing with all that I could ever want.
He is the perfect bridegroom waiting for me to realize that
He has crafted me to be His perfect bride.
And I let the world define me, instead of Him. I tell myself
that I have to appear a certain way, act a certain way, seem a certain way.
But I want a heart that is after His own. I don’t know if
earthy is the word that I’m looking for, but I long to be someone who is
down-to-earth, who has no façade, who is pure in the way that I represent His
Son in my actions and in the way that I speak. To speak with honesty and wisdom,
to be thoughtful and kind, cheerful and reasonable, and yet completely head
over heels in love with a God who delights to dance with his daughter.
And I feel as if my pretty rainbow-coloured fluffy illusions
are being torn into pieces by His Word, and I feel devastated and empty and not
enough.
But He takes those pieces and places each one, by His
wisdom, into the frame of His will, and purely by His grace, the Son shines
through the stained glass window art that He is making.
May I be willing to be torn, to not be enough, that I may be
healed in His image, to testify that He is more than enough.
Apparent
It is perhaps one of the most incongruous pictures of Jesus that we see in the New Testament. Tables and coins flying as Jesus pushes sellers out of the temple, righteous wrath in His actions to clean out His Father's holy place of worship.
They belonged there. These were those who provided the sacrifices necessary for the Israelites to atone for their sins. Yet they were perverting the system by tipping the scales, adding money to their own pockets and raising prices when unnecessary.
What did Jesus say? He said in the face of their arrogance and defamation of the temple, "My Father's house shall be called a house of prayer."
A house of prayer?
Not a house of worship, of praise, of sermons, of anything else?
No. A house of prayer.
And this point was brought up in chapel a few weeks ago, and it struck a chord within me.
Prayer. It's the foundation of anything and everything we do. It's talking to God, bringing everything before Him, acknowledging His presence in situations, etc.
Our actions are useless if they do not bring others to a state of prayer and glorification of God.
Too often my talents are used for my own glorification. My actions, my words, the way that I dress, the expressions I use, are all so that others think better of me.
But really? Do they bring others to a fuller understanding of who God is by my presence? Am I working on day by day becoming more transparent so that He may become more apparent?
Am I, as His holy temple, a house of prayer?
A house not of rules or large words or actions with no substance, but simple, glowing, purposely life-giving, encouraging, grounded, easy to talk to, worthy to be trusted in, speaking honestly and with words of truth, and most of all... prayerful.
They belonged there. These were those who provided the sacrifices necessary for the Israelites to atone for their sins. Yet they were perverting the system by tipping the scales, adding money to their own pockets and raising prices when unnecessary.
What did Jesus say? He said in the face of their arrogance and defamation of the temple, "My Father's house shall be called a house of prayer."
A house of prayer?
Not a house of worship, of praise, of sermons, of anything else?
No. A house of prayer.
And this point was brought up in chapel a few weeks ago, and it struck a chord within me.
Prayer. It's the foundation of anything and everything we do. It's talking to God, bringing everything before Him, acknowledging His presence in situations, etc.
Our actions are useless if they do not bring others to a state of prayer and glorification of God.
Too often my talents are used for my own glorification. My actions, my words, the way that I dress, the expressions I use, are all so that others think better of me.
But really? Do they bring others to a fuller understanding of who God is by my presence? Am I working on day by day becoming more transparent so that He may become more apparent?
Am I, as His holy temple, a house of prayer?
A house not of rules or large words or actions with no substance, but simple, glowing, purposely life-giving, encouraging, grounded, easy to talk to, worthy to be trusted in, speaking honestly and with words of truth, and most of all... prayerful.
Tuesday, October 23
Showing
God is GOOD.
Do you understand what that means? Do I understand what that means? That in every circumstance, in every situation, He is working for our best?
When I first heard the words "day of prayer" strung together, I felt really excited and really apprehensive all at the same time.
One on hand, I was thinking: A day? A *whole* day? For praying? This is going to be interesting...
But at the same time, I was thinking: A whole day? A whole day when I can just sit in His presence and open up my ears and listen to His heartbeat and just. be.? Sounds awesome!
And those three simple words were what I was left with at the end of such a day.
They hold so much.
I am a chronic worrier. If there's nothing else I'm doing, you can bet that I am worrying about something or the other.
I am also an organizational freak when it comes to things that I can control in my life... aaaannnd even what I can't control.
And as I went throughout this day, going through times of prayer alone, or with my class, or other groups, this one statement kept on coming back and back and back.
Because as much as I don't want to admit it... I don't trust God.
I don't trust Him to be good.
I don't trust Him to give me a full, fulfilling life, with a career that will daily inspire and challenge me, with a husband who understands my quirks and is a man of God {I mean, what if... oh, goodness no!...He doesn't have a husband up His sleeve for me...? aaaaaccckk!}.
And those fears seem so silly, but lived out in every day life, they're so hard to give over to Him, trusting that He is good.
It took me a long time to realize that He was good in my past. In fact, my past was the best plan for my life, although at the time I had no clue what He was up to.
And after today I'm starting to realize that He is always going to be good, and that I need not be afraid of giving my all to Him with fears of a dry career, boring husband (or, gasp! a nun's habit...).
He is good, and He created this small frail heart of mine with its many quirks and many dreams. He knows my way, all I have to do is give it over to Him.
The thing is, these realizations come, but it's what I do with them day after day after today that really will make a difference in how I live.
How would it change the way that you live, if you lived with the realization that He is GOOD?
Do you understand what that means? Do I understand what that means? That in every circumstance, in every situation, He is working for our best?
When I first heard the words "day of prayer" strung together, I felt really excited and really apprehensive all at the same time.
One on hand, I was thinking: A day? A *whole* day? For praying? This is going to be interesting...
But at the same time, I was thinking: A whole day? A whole day when I can just sit in His presence and open up my ears and listen to His heartbeat and just. be.? Sounds awesome!
And those three simple words were what I was left with at the end of such a day.
They hold so much.
I am a chronic worrier. If there's nothing else I'm doing, you can bet that I am worrying about something or the other.
I am also an organizational freak when it comes to things that I can control in my life... aaaannnd even what I can't control.
And as I went throughout this day, going through times of prayer alone, or with my class, or other groups, this one statement kept on coming back and back and back.
Because as much as I don't want to admit it... I don't trust God.
I don't trust Him to be good.
I don't trust Him to give me a full, fulfilling life, with a career that will daily inspire and challenge me, with a husband who understands my quirks and is a man of God {I mean, what if... oh, goodness no!...He doesn't have a husband up His sleeve for me...? aaaaaccckk!}.
And those fears seem so silly, but lived out in every day life, they're so hard to give over to Him, trusting that He is good.
It took me a long time to realize that He was good in my past. In fact, my past was the best plan for my life, although at the time I had no clue what He was up to.
And after today I'm starting to realize that He is always going to be good, and that I need not be afraid of giving my all to Him with fears of a dry career, boring husband (or, gasp! a nun's habit...).
He is good, and He created this small frail heart of mine with its many quirks and many dreams. He knows my way, all I have to do is give it over to Him.
The thing is, these realizations come, but it's what I do with them day after day after today that really will make a difference in how I live.
How would it change the way that you live, if you lived with the realization that He is GOOD?
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