Beyond the Threshold

When our deepest desire is not the things of God, or a favor from God, but God himself, we cross a threshold. Less self-focus, more God-focus. Less about me, more about him. ~ Max Lucado 

I heard it first at a prayer meeting this past year.

A group of students gathered at a staff house on a Sunday evening and a passionate prayer warrior leading with words of truth. And I don't remember where the words she said came from, or what book she said that she'd been reading, but I remember clearly the words that have stuck with me.

What if we prayed focused more on the Blesser rather than the blessings?

And, by extension: What if we lived focused on the Giver rather than the gifts.

Reading these two sentences in the second chapter of It's Not About Me (by Max Lucado), brought back that night and how I was challenged to come simply to sit in His presence.

Yes, I can read the Bible, but am I coming with a heart that seeks to know Him more? Not to know more about Him, but to know Him?

Am I praying to receive things? Or to fulfill the real reason for prayer - that it's more about aligning my heart with God than producing any "change" in His will (Jorin Green)?

Why do I come?

Why?

Is it guilt? Is it duty? Is it for a good feeling? Is it for show? Is it.... what?

Is it because of Him? Simply to sit in His presence and to know Him? To be with Him?

Because He is more than enough.

This life? This crazy, convoluted, up-and-down roller-coaster ride? It's all about revealing Him, His character in the creases of the worn everyday. How much more clearly do we see Him than by being His creation and living in the world that He has made?

He is worthy.

Do I come to get a glimpse of His power? Do I cry out as Moses did, requesting what seemed to be the impossible? To see the glory of God?

Do I glory in Him as my King? To bask in all that He is? To seek out a new facet of Him every day?

Oh, the desire to even desire Him is far from me many days. I cry out for even that desire, and yet when it comes, I must choose it. It's a crazy balance, but what I do know...

Nothing compares with seeing His face.

And I could go to church every day of the week, I could read my Bible from cover to cover time after time, I could fast two days a week, I could pray all day, I could be involved in everything... but if it's not because I desire to see Him, to know Him, to be His?

It's all worthless.

Oh, that I might cross the threshold daily.

Wasting Nothing

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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.

Carrying

We performed fourteen times in less than two weeks. Truth heaped upon truth, revealing itself little by little to the stubborn heart that I own. And I heard this song every single time, and every time I had to be reminded.

I am carried.

It was mentioned at the beginning of the year, during our first module course, that the only thing that we contribute to our salvation is our sin.

Think about it.

The only thing we bring is our inadequacy, our brokenness, our inability.

And in our shattered state, He lifts and carries us to that banquet that He's promised.

On the road with tour, it was so easy to slip into letting those prayer times before performances being the only times that I purposely talked to Him. To let the message that we were sharing be the time I spent with Him instead of letting that message flow from a heart that was resting in Him.

I tried to do it all by myself. As if I was trying to be something that I wasn't, trying to conjure up something that didn't exist.

I was stumbling, crawling desperately up that hill when there were Arms ready to hold me if I just stopped so desperately trying to do it on my own.

And it was when I simply talked to Him, told Him everything, invited Him into the everyday moments, acknowledged the way that He wasn't the middle of everything like He should be that I realized, once again, that in the every day, I need to be carried.

Over the last month or so, I have  been reading through Psalms and Proverbs and He has really been underlining his unfailing love.

Return, O LORD, and rescue me. Save me because of your unfailing love. (Psalm 6:4)

But I trust in your unfailing love. I will rejoice because you have rescued me. I will sing because the LORD is good to me. (Psalm 13:5-6)

I cried out, "I am slipping!" but your unfailing love, O LORD, supported me. When doubts filled my mind, your comfort gave me renewed hope and cheer. (Psalm 94:18-19)

Not to us, O LORD, not to us, but to your name goes all the glory for your unfailing love and faithfulness. (Psalm 115:1)

And it's everywhere. There are many, many more references.

His unfailing love, His carrying, that's why I can keep going on. Because it's not about me. That moment when our walk began? That was when I first allowed Him to carry me and said, "I cannot do this." And the everyday requires repeating that same surrendering of will, that same laying down of self.

It's only when He carries me that I find that He is strong because I am weak.

He longs to carry you. Will you let Him?

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. 

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.