I did a thorough cleaning of the refrigerator yesterday. It's amazing how something can be so revolting and so therapeutic all at the same time. It wasn't that I was especially in the "mood" to pull everything out, empty the leftovers from last Thanksgiving, and scrub out the tupperware. Actually, it was more out of necessity than anything. See, I had just bought groceries. All of the new turkey bacon and strawberries needed a home, and that required that I roll up my sleeves, don the rubber gloves, and get down to business.
Coincidentally, I had just started a new devotional that very same yesterday. For the next 40 days I will be intentional about giving up the time I would normally be doing something in particular - in this case watching tv (I am, after all, a nanny...though I've never tasted a Bon Bon) - and instead spend that time working through the Scriptures and questions in this devotional.
Well, after I had finished working through the devotions for last evening I headed out for a 30 minute drive to pick my husband up from the airport, and I decided to do something drastic - turn off the radio and pray.
First I chatted with God about how excited I was to be doing this 40 Day Journey, and I told Him that I wanted Him to challenge me and change me (yada yada yada), then I found myself asking a question. "Why don't I pray anymore?" Yes, I was asking God why I don't pray, because I've thought about that question often and I couldn't come to any conclusions. "You know, Lord. You know why I don't pray. You know my heart."
Then it hit me...like a ton of bricks...like lightning...like anything that's sudden and painful.
When you are on your beds, search your hearts and be silent.
~Psalm 4:4b
I knew at that moment that I would know the answer to my own question if I had been taking the time to sit silently and to search my heart. It had been so long since I turned off the music, the tv, the people, the thoughts, the noise and silently sat and searched.
Then I thought back a few hours to my putrid refrigerator. I had to clean it out, I had to go through it and find the stuff, I had to make room for the fresh, good things. I took the time, searched through everything, dealt with the problem areas, and it paid off opening up so much space.
My heart is, shamefully, like my refrigerator. It has gone way too long without a good, thorough cleaning. As I drove to DFW at 10:30 pm, I found plenty of mold growing on things in my heart - things that I had pushed to the back instead of working through right away. Some I had even forgotten were in there because I hadn't wanted to deal with them.
But just like me (the domestic marvel that I am) and my refrigerator, God has so many good things that He wants to give us if only we'll take the time (and the silence) to do a thorough search and deal with the messes that have been growing in the far back corners of our hearts.
Spiritually speaking, it's time for me to roll up my sleeves, don some rubber gloves, and get down to business. It'll stink, but I want to have room for the strawberries.
Showing posts with label from Scripture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label from Scripture. Show all posts
Monday, June 29, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Needing the Weeds
It was a long walk - a very long walk - and a dry walk. The air was dry, the ground was dry, and my throat was dry. I kept my eyes on the ground watching for scurrying animals or, even worse, scorpions. There was tall rustling grass just plagued with ticks, I could feel it, and dry underbrush that was home to some rattlesnake nest I'm sure I was close to trampling.
We walked through the gulley following the very non-descript map we had been given and it was feeling a little eerie. The trees were dead. The grass was dead. That armadillo was dead. Everything, it seemed, had been drained of life and I gave up any hope of seeing something that was thriving in that deserted place.
Then, in the basin of the parched gulley, we came across the weeds. The ground was dry and cracked all around it, and the bright green of the leaves lay in stark contrast to the gray-brown dirt which surrounded them. There was no moisture in the dirt, but somehow these weeds had been able to grow strong, to dig in their roots, and even to multiply. In the middle of such a desperately dry place the weeds took on a unique kind of beauty.
They were life.
Now don't get me wrong, I know they were just weeds. They had no colorful flowers. No long intricate stems. No intoxicating aroma. In any garden they would've been an eyesore, but in the middle of what could otherwise be deemed a wasteland, they were awesomely beautiful. Life had grown out of a dry, cracked riverbed and stood (albeit 1/4 in. off the ground) as a testimony that it was, indeed, fertile ground.
I've had a lot of "dry seasons" that closely resemble the Texas landscape. Parched and cracked and desperately needing refreshment while the proverbial vultures wait on the branches overhead for me to give in. I go through seasons where I just feel empty of all life, and it's hard for me to remember what life even looked like in me.
When was I ever refreshing? When was I ever weighed down by His fruit? When was the last time someone stopped to look at the beauty in my life?
But there are also those weeds that somehow seem to pop up without any nourishment or any warning: an encouraging word from someone, a tearful prayer, a moment of meaningful worship, or sudden clarity about a verse of Scripture. They're nothing fancy - no elaborate spiritual masterpieces. These are just small, simple things that stand as testimony in my life that, however dry or desperate the terrain may be, the Spirit is never done with His work in me.
I'm learning to love the weeds. They let me know I'm still alive.
But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD,
whose confidence is in him.
He will be like a tree planted by the water
that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
and never fails to bear fruit.
~Jeremiah 17:7-8
We walked through the gulley following the very non-descript map we had been given and it was feeling a little eerie. The trees were dead. The grass was dead. That armadillo was dead. Everything, it seemed, had been drained of life and I gave up any hope of seeing something that was thriving in that deserted place.
Then, in the basin of the parched gulley, we came across the weeds. The ground was dry and cracked all around it, and the bright green of the leaves lay in stark contrast to the gray-brown dirt which surrounded them. There was no moisture in the dirt, but somehow these weeds had been able to grow strong, to dig in their roots, and even to multiply. In the middle of such a desperately dry place the weeds took on a unique kind of beauty.They were life.
Now don't get me wrong, I know they were just weeds. They had no colorful flowers. No long intricate stems. No intoxicating aroma. In any garden they would've been an eyesore, but in the middle of what could otherwise be deemed a wasteland, they were awesomely beautiful. Life had grown out of a dry, cracked riverbed and stood (albeit 1/4 in. off the ground) as a testimony that it was, indeed, fertile ground.
I've had a lot of "dry seasons" that closely resemble the Texas landscape. Parched and cracked and desperately needing refreshment while the proverbial vultures wait on the branches overhead for me to give in. I go through seasons where I just feel empty of all life, and it's hard for me to remember what life even looked like in me.
When was I ever refreshing? When was I ever weighed down by His fruit? When was the last time someone stopped to look at the beauty in my life?
But there are also those weeds that somehow seem to pop up without any nourishment or any warning: an encouraging word from someone, a tearful prayer, a moment of meaningful worship, or sudden clarity about a verse of Scripture. They're nothing fancy - no elaborate spiritual masterpieces. These are just small, simple things that stand as testimony in my life that, however dry or desperate the terrain may be, the Spirit is never done with His work in me.
I'm learning to love the weeds. They let me know I'm still alive.
But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD,
whose confidence is in him.
He will be like a tree planted by the water
that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
and never fails to bear fruit.
~Jeremiah 17:7-8
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Nothing
based on Philippians 2:1-11
“What are you guys talking about?” “Nothing.”
“What do you want to do tonight?” “Nothing.”
“What did you learn in class today?” “Nothing.”
Of course, we never mean nothing, but rather something less. We were talking about something less than you should know, or tonight I want to do something less than usual, or in class today I learned something less than you might hope for based on your contributions to my TMS payments.
As people, we consider ourselves to be "something" – maybe even a big "something." We work tirelessly at our jobs and our studies, we invest in our relationships and portfolios, we establish our households and our corporate empires, all in an effort to “make something” of ourselves.
But Christ saw it fit to remind us where we really fall in the scheme of things.
When He, who is in very nature God, came here – to join our world that is aimed at success and pleasure – he considered it becoming nothing. See, what we think of as "something" God sees as something less.
“…but made himself nothing taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.”
To be a human was, for Christ, to be nothing. But wait, there’s more! Christ (who is naturally God) did not just make himself something less. He made himself less than something less.
“And being found in appearance as a man he humbled himself and became obedient to death, even death on a cross!”
God – became a man – and died. That’s not exactly nothing, but He had to become nothing to get there.
We, as the “somethings” that we think we are, are told to have that same attitude. To look at the nothingness that Christ took on, to dwell on the less than nothingness to which he humbled himself, and to see that to be something less really shows something much, much more.
From "Sacred Poems"
What did the Lamb that he should need,
When the wolf sins, himself to bleed?
Why should his unstain’d breast make good
My blushes with his own heart-blood?
O my Savior! make me see
How dearly you have paid for me;
That lost again, my life may prove
As then in death, so now in love.
~Richard Crenshaw
“What are you guys talking about?” “Nothing.”
“What do you want to do tonight?” “Nothing.”
“What did you learn in class today?” “Nothing.”
Of course, we never mean nothing, but rather something less. We were talking about something less than you should know, or tonight I want to do something less than usual, or in class today I learned something less than you might hope for based on your contributions to my TMS payments.
As people, we consider ourselves to be "something" – maybe even a big "something." We work tirelessly at our jobs and our studies, we invest in our relationships and portfolios, we establish our households and our corporate empires, all in an effort to “make something” of ourselves.
But Christ saw it fit to remind us where we really fall in the scheme of things.
When He, who is in very nature God, came here – to join our world that is aimed at success and pleasure – he considered it becoming nothing. See, what we think of as "something" God sees as something less.
“…but made himself nothing taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.”
To be a human was, for Christ, to be nothing. But wait, there’s more! Christ (who is naturally God) did not just make himself something less. He made himself less than something less.
“And being found in appearance as a man he humbled himself and became obedient to death, even death on a cross!”
God – became a man – and died. That’s not exactly nothing, but He had to become nothing to get there.
We, as the “somethings” that we think we are, are told to have that same attitude. To look at the nothingness that Christ took on, to dwell on the less than nothingness to which he humbled himself, and to see that to be something less really shows something much, much more.
From "Sacred Poems"
What did the Lamb that he should need,
When the wolf sins, himself to bleed?
Why should his unstain’d breast make good
My blushes with his own heart-blood?
O my Savior! make me see
How dearly you have paid for me;
That lost again, my life may prove
As then in death, so now in love.
~Richard Crenshaw
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Already Shining
based on John 1:1-18He named the darkness. It belongs to Him, yet it rebels against Him. It cries for all sorts of evil, it hosts wickedness, it is the residence of everything that is a perversion of His intentions for this world.
Then, in an inexplicable act of both grace and mercy, He sent part of Himself, one of Himself, to be the Presence in the Absence - to be the good amidst the evil, the righteous among the horror, to be the perfections of His intentions. The Light entered the Darkness to show it for what it was and to show Himself for who He is.
But that which was never meant to be did not understand that which always was. Though His light was shining in the darkest of corridors, they refused to walk by it and instead smothered the flame.
But the Son of God who was the Son of Man, containing the very Glory of heaven, would not remain shrouded in the dank cloak of earthly darkness. Though they trampled the flame for a time, He cast off the cloak and revealed the true splendor of His heavenly sunshine.
The Light of heaven conquered the Darkness of this world.
Now we know that darkness, in itself, can never cover or extinguish light. Light will always overpower darkness. The fullness of the Radiance will chase away the emptiness of the Rebellion and those living by the Light will never again find themselves in the shadows.
He will melt the clouds of sin and sadness, He will drive the dark of doubt away. The Giver of immortal gladness will fill us with the light of Day.
Monday, October 09, 2006
The Great Exchange
Based on Romans 1:25 and Isaiah 44:9-20.
.back.forth.back.forth.back.forth.back.forth.
He holds the handle and slides the metal teeth horizontally through the wide base. "Timber," he mumbles to himself. It breaks branches of surrounding trees as it falls to the ground.
.up.down.up.down.up.down.up.down.
The axe splits it into dozens of pieces, some bigger than others. He stacks them in his arms, and carries them load by load into the house.
.snap.crackle.pop.snap.crackle.pop.
He rubs his hands together over the flame, stirs the pot, and returns to his work.
.tap.scrape.tap.scrape.tap.scrape.tap.scrape.
Skillfully he chisels it away, leaving a dust drifting slowly to the floor. He smoothes the edges, shapes the eyes, polishes the form until something that looks similar to himself is left. He sets it in the corner of the room and drops to his knees. Prostrate, he waits for his supper.
.drip.slurp.drip.slurp.drip.slurp.drip.slurp.
Sitting by the window (still close enough to feel the warmth of the flames) he watches the rain fall on the forest and slowly eats from his bowl. After his last bite he returns to his position on the floor in front of the fireplace.
.back.forth.back.forth.back.forth.back.forth.
Months later he slides the metal teeth horizontally through the wide base. "It's a good thing I planted so many," he mumbles to himself. "Stupid termites."
He spent weeks getting ready to plant them. He watched the rain fall on them and the sunlight pull them out of the ground. He cut them. He carried them. He burned half and sanded the other half. He carefully dug the splinters out of his palms and then returned them to a position of prayer. He created his own god. With his own hands he made something that those hands could serve.
Am I any different? I invest my time in relationships. I work hard to improve on my talents. I do a little cutting here, a little chiseling there, a little smoothing of the rough edges. I take the pieces of my life that I think are usable for such noble purposes and I burn the rest to keep me warm and fed and to give me light while I keep busy at my "woodworking". Daily I exchange the truth of God for a lie. Daily I worship the created instead of the Creator. Day after day I bow myself down to the images I have constructed while I watch the rain He provides.
It's time to put all the wood in the fire and just walk through the forest. It's time to put down the tools and just bow before something that did not involve my hands. It's time to exchange the lies for the truth of God.
.back.forth.back.forth.back.forth.back.forth.
He holds the handle and slides the metal teeth horizontally through the wide base. "Timber," he mumbles to himself. It breaks branches of surrounding trees as it falls to the ground.
.up.down.up.down.up.down.up.down.
The axe splits it into dozens of pieces, some bigger than others. He stacks them in his arms, and carries them load by load into the house.
.snap.crackle.pop.snap.crackle.pop.
He rubs his hands together over the flame, stirs the pot, and returns to his work.
.tap.scrape.tap.scrape.tap.scrape.tap.scrape.
Skillfully he chisels it away, leaving a dust drifting slowly to the floor. He smoothes the edges, shapes the eyes, polishes the form until something that looks similar to himself is left. He sets it in the corner of the room and drops to his knees. Prostrate, he waits for his supper.
.drip.slurp.drip.slurp.drip.slurp.drip.slurp.
Sitting by the window (still close enough to feel the warmth of the flames) he watches the rain fall on the forest and slowly eats from his bowl. After his last bite he returns to his position on the floor in front of the fireplace.
.back.forth.back.forth.back.forth.back.forth.
Months later he slides the metal teeth horizontally through the wide base. "It's a good thing I planted so many," he mumbles to himself. "Stupid termites."
He spent weeks getting ready to plant them. He watched the rain fall on them and the sunlight pull them out of the ground. He cut them. He carried them. He burned half and sanded the other half. He carefully dug the splinters out of his palms and then returned them to a position of prayer. He created his own god. With his own hands he made something that those hands could serve.
Am I any different? I invest my time in relationships. I work hard to improve on my talents. I do a little cutting here, a little chiseling there, a little smoothing of the rough edges. I take the pieces of my life that I think are usable for such noble purposes and I burn the rest to keep me warm and fed and to give me light while I keep busy at my "woodworking". Daily I exchange the truth of God for a lie. Daily I worship the created instead of the Creator. Day after day I bow myself down to the images I have constructed while I watch the rain He provides.
It's time to put all the wood in the fire and just walk through the forest. It's time to put down the tools and just bow before something that did not involve my hands. It's time to exchange the lies for the truth of God.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
If I were him...(for Ann)
Based on Mark 2:1-12
My embarrassment would’ve been nearly unbearable. To see all those people, covered in dust and pieces of the ceiling and just staring at me on my mat like a fool. To know that I was nothing more than an interruption, that I had inconvenienced them, that I had brought my problem to the center of their lives. And then to see him: his hands still raised in emphasis of his life-altering message he was speaking to them. To see his eyes looking into mine, and to know that I just came to him – a KING – like this…
My overwhelming gratitude would’ve been mixed with agonizing frustration. To know how much my friends cared, how they ignored my pleas to “just forget it”, how they were so dedicated when I was willing to give up. And when they, in a great team effort, lifted me up to the roof, and then started digging with their own hands, working and sweating just to get me close enough to him…
My heart would’ve hung limp and lifeless inside my chest like my legs when they finally rested on the floor. Would he heal me? Would he really consider my affliction? Could he really make himself touch my broken, desperate, bleeding life with his clean hands? To hope in him would mean to hope at all. Would I have remembered how to hope?
If I were him, and I watched the Messiah look hard at me, then turn and look intently at my friends, only to look back at me with a pleased and satisfied smile, would I have known that he saw the same thing in them that I did? Would I have known that it was when he saw them lowering me down before him, when he saw their dirty hands gripping on to the edge of the hole they had just created, when he saw them mouthing to me, “There he is,” “He's got you now,” and “Soon,” when he looked in their eyes and saw the hope that was missing from mine…would I have known it was when he saw their faith that he turned to me and touched me with his hand of healing?
You are surrounded by faith and hope and love. It is so evident in the heart of your husband, I watch it flow from your kids, I witness it in your church as they surround you, and I see it in people like myself who don’t know you well but who have been touched by your life and broken by your sorrow. Know that you are daily being laid down at the feet of the only one who can make you whole, and all around you people are whispering “There he is,” “He's got you now,” and “Soon.” Know that there is hope in the eyes of those around you. May he see the faith that is carrying you, and may he lay on you his hand of healing.
My embarrassment would’ve been nearly unbearable. To see all those people, covered in dust and pieces of the ceiling and just staring at me on my mat like a fool. To know that I was nothing more than an interruption, that I had inconvenienced them, that I had brought my problem to the center of their lives. And then to see him: his hands still raised in emphasis of his life-altering message he was speaking to them. To see his eyes looking into mine, and to know that I just came to him – a KING – like this…
My overwhelming gratitude would’ve been mixed with agonizing frustration. To know how much my friends cared, how they ignored my pleas to “just forget it”, how they were so dedicated when I was willing to give up. And when they, in a great team effort, lifted me up to the roof, and then started digging with their own hands, working and sweating just to get me close enough to him…
My heart would’ve hung limp and lifeless inside my chest like my legs when they finally rested on the floor. Would he heal me? Would he really consider my affliction? Could he really make himself touch my broken, desperate, bleeding life with his clean hands? To hope in him would mean to hope at all. Would I have remembered how to hope?
If I were him, and I watched the Messiah look hard at me, then turn and look intently at my friends, only to look back at me with a pleased and satisfied smile, would I have known that he saw the same thing in them that I did? Would I have known that it was when he saw them lowering me down before him, when he saw their dirty hands gripping on to the edge of the hole they had just created, when he saw them mouthing to me, “There he is,” “He's got you now,” and “Soon,” when he looked in their eyes and saw the hope that was missing from mine…would I have known it was when he saw their faith that he turned to me and touched me with his hand of healing?
You are surrounded by faith and hope and love. It is so evident in the heart of your husband, I watch it flow from your kids, I witness it in your church as they surround you, and I see it in people like myself who don’t know you well but who have been touched by your life and broken by your sorrow. Know that you are daily being laid down at the feet of the only one who can make you whole, and all around you people are whispering “There he is,” “He's got you now,” and “Soon.” Know that there is hope in the eyes of those around you. May he see the faith that is carrying you, and may he lay on you his hand of healing.
Friday, June 30, 2006
The Voice Part III: Resolution
THE SETTING is a pitch black stage. ME is standing center stage with VOICE 1 slightly behind to stage left and VOICE 2 slightly behind to stage right.
DRAW CURTAINS
NARRATOR: [offstage] Before them the earth shakes, the sky trembles, the sun and moon are darkened, and the stars no longer shine.
ME: [in despair] How I long for the months gone by, for the days when God watched over me, when his lamp shone upon my head and by his light I walked through darkness!
VOICE 2: [encouragingly] Even in darkness light dawns for the upright, for the gracious and compassionate and righteous man. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.
VOICE 1: [to ME] That is why snares are all around you, why sudden peril terrifies you, why it is so dark you cannot see, and why a flood of water covers you.
VOICE 2: Let him who walks in the dark, who has no light, trust in the name of the LORD and rely on his God.
VOICE 1: See, darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the peoples…
VOICE 2: [to ME] …but the LORD rises upon you and his glory appears over you.
VOICE 1: [to VOICE 2] But you crushed us and made us a haunt for jackals and covered us over with deep darkness.
ME: [to VOICE 2] You have taken my companions and loved ones from me; the darkness is my closest friend.
VOICE 1: [to ME] He has driven me away and made me walk in darkness rather than light; he has made me dwell in darkness like those long dead. [to VOICE 2] So justice is far from us, and righteousness does not reach us. We look for light, but all is darkness; for brightness, but we walk in deep shadows.
VOICE 2: I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.
ME: Be merciful to me, O LORD, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and my body with grief. Look on me and answer, O LORD my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death.
VOICE 2: Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eyes are good, your whole body also is full of light.
VOICE 1: But if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!
ME: Do not gloat over me, my enemy! Though I have fallen, I will rise. Though I sit in darkness, the LORD will be my light.
VOICE 2: See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness.
ME: You, O LORD, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.
VOICE 1: The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them.
VOICE 2: A man who walks by day will not stumble, for he sees by this world's light.
VOICE 1: It is when he walks by night that he stumbles, for he has no light.
VOICE 2: [harshly, to VOICE 1] Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter. [gently, to ME] The night is nearly over; the day is almost here.
ME: I am not silenced by the darkness, by the thick darkness that covers my face. If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me," even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
VOICE 2: The darkness is passing and the true light is already shining.
ME: Lead me, O LORD, in your righteousness because of my enemies – make straight your way before me. Not a word from their mouth can be trusted; their heart is filled with destruction. Their throat is an open grave; with their tongue they speak deceit. Rescue me from my enemies, O LORD, for I hide myself in you. Teach me to do your will, for you are my God; may your good Spirit lead me on level ground.
VOICE 2: Follow me.
NARRATOR: The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned. He brought them out of darkness and the deepest gloom and broke away their chains.
CLOSE CURTAINS
DRAW CURTAINS
NARRATOR: [offstage] Before them the earth shakes, the sky trembles, the sun and moon are darkened, and the stars no longer shine.
ME: [in despair] How I long for the months gone by, for the days when God watched over me, when his lamp shone upon my head and by his light I walked through darkness!
VOICE 2: [encouragingly] Even in darkness light dawns for the upright, for the gracious and compassionate and righteous man. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.
VOICE 1: [to ME] That is why snares are all around you, why sudden peril terrifies you, why it is so dark you cannot see, and why a flood of water covers you.
VOICE 2: Let him who walks in the dark, who has no light, trust in the name of the LORD and rely on his God.
VOICE 1: See, darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the peoples…
VOICE 2: [to ME] …but the LORD rises upon you and his glory appears over you.
VOICE 1: [to VOICE 2] But you crushed us and made us a haunt for jackals and covered us over with deep darkness.
ME: [to VOICE 2] You have taken my companions and loved ones from me; the darkness is my closest friend.
VOICE 1: [to ME] He has driven me away and made me walk in darkness rather than light; he has made me dwell in darkness like those long dead. [to VOICE 2] So justice is far from us, and righteousness does not reach us. We look for light, but all is darkness; for brightness, but we walk in deep shadows.
VOICE 2: I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.
ME: Be merciful to me, O LORD, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and my body with grief. Look on me and answer, O LORD my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death.
VOICE 2: Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eyes are good, your whole body also is full of light.
VOICE 1: But if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!
ME: Do not gloat over me, my enemy! Though I have fallen, I will rise. Though I sit in darkness, the LORD will be my light.
VOICE 2: See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness.
ME: You, O LORD, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.
VOICE 1: The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them.
VOICE 2: A man who walks by day will not stumble, for he sees by this world's light.
VOICE 1: It is when he walks by night that he stumbles, for he has no light.
VOICE 2: [harshly, to VOICE 1] Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter. [gently, to ME] The night is nearly over; the day is almost here.
ME: I am not silenced by the darkness, by the thick darkness that covers my face. If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me," even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
VOICE 2: The darkness is passing and the true light is already shining.
ME: Lead me, O LORD, in your righteousness because of my enemies – make straight your way before me. Not a word from their mouth can be trusted; their heart is filled with destruction. Their throat is an open grave; with their tongue they speak deceit. Rescue me from my enemies, O LORD, for I hide myself in you. Teach me to do your will, for you are my God; may your good Spirit lead me on level ground.
VOICE 2: Follow me.
NARRATOR: The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned. He brought them out of darkness and the deepest gloom and broke away their chains.
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Thursday, April 13, 2006
Greener Grass
They were dividing the land. Each tribe would get their own territory. It would be theirs to tend, to defend, to fill, to live and to die in. Everyone, that is, except...
"The LORD said to Aaron, 'You will have no inheritance in their land, nor will you have any share among them; I am your share and your inheritance among the Israelites.'" ~Numbers 18:20
Whoa whoa whoa! I didn't ask to be part of this family.
"But to the tribe of Levi he gave no inheritance, since the offerings made by fire to the LORD, the God of Israel, are their inheritance, as he promised them." ~Joshua 13:14
Wait, they get land, wealth, and prestige, and we get...burning animal flesh?
"But to the tribe of Levi, Moses had given no inheritance; the LORD, the God of Israel, is their inheritance as he had promised them." ~Joshua 13:33
Okay, so while they get an inheritance, we get God. Because that's what he promised. And that's a promise we wanted. For some reason. Of course.
"The Levites received no share of the land, but only towns to live in, with pasturelands for their flocks." ~Joshua 14:4b
Gee, thanks.
"The Levites, however, do not get a portion among you because the priestly service of the LORD is their inheritance." ~Joshua 18:7a
Oh joy! We get to SERVE you, too? *eyes rolling back dramatically* This couldn't be any more of everything I ever hoped for!
Jipped. They were totally jipped. Everyone else got property, got to fight, got to live normal lives, but if you were part of the family of Aaron, if you had (willingly or not) come in the line of Levi, your fate was sealed. You would serve God. That's it. Done deal. However, they were apparently (and fortunately) far less selfish than I am.
He was their sole purpose. They constantly served as liason between a stiff-necked people and a just God. Their lives were worship, they could allay God's anger on others, they were responsible to pray for others, and He was their ultimate satisfaction. He was enough for them.
And now here I am. The curtain has been torn, and I am welcomed in to the courts of the King, yet as I approach the throne with confidence my eyes find the window. "Land! You're NOT enough. This is not enough. I want what you gave them. I don't just want my needs met. I don't just want to be with you. You're not enough. I want...land."
So easily satisfied by things that don't matter,
so discontent with the only thing that can satisfy.
Oh Aaron, show me how to love the fruitful staff!
"The LORD said to Aaron, 'You will have no inheritance in their land, nor will you have any share among them; I am your share and your inheritance among the Israelites.'" ~Numbers 18:20
Whoa whoa whoa! I didn't ask to be part of this family.
"But to the tribe of Levi he gave no inheritance, since the offerings made by fire to the LORD, the God of Israel, are their inheritance, as he promised them." ~Joshua 13:14
Wait, they get land, wealth, and prestige, and we get...burning animal flesh?
"But to the tribe of Levi, Moses had given no inheritance; the LORD, the God of Israel, is their inheritance as he had promised them." ~Joshua 13:33
Okay, so while they get an inheritance, we get God. Because that's what he promised. And that's a promise we wanted. For some reason. Of course.
"The Levites received no share of the land, but only towns to live in, with pasturelands for their flocks." ~Joshua 14:4b
Gee, thanks.
"The Levites, however, do not get a portion among you because the priestly service of the LORD is their inheritance." ~Joshua 18:7a
Oh joy! We get to SERVE you, too? *eyes rolling back dramatically* This couldn't be any more of everything I ever hoped for!
Jipped. They were totally jipped. Everyone else got property, got to fight, got to live normal lives, but if you were part of the family of Aaron, if you had (willingly or not) come in the line of Levi, your fate was sealed. You would serve God. That's it. Done deal. However, they were apparently (and fortunately) far less selfish than I am.
He was their sole purpose. They constantly served as liason between a stiff-necked people and a just God. Their lives were worship, they could allay God's anger on others, they were responsible to pray for others, and He was their ultimate satisfaction. He was enough for them.
And now here I am. The curtain has been torn, and I am welcomed in to the courts of the King, yet as I approach the throne with confidence my eyes find the window. "Land! You're NOT enough. This is not enough. I want what you gave them. I don't just want my needs met. I don't just want to be with you. You're not enough. I want...land."
So easily satisfied by things that don't matter,
so discontent with the only thing that can satisfy.
Oh Aaron, show me how to love the fruitful staff!
Thursday, February 16, 2006
"Now show me your glory."
He found himself in a place with steep, sharp, craggy rocks on every side. It was cold, it was damp, the air was stagnant and he was pinned. His eyes were covered so that he could not see through the only place that led to the open air. But instead of panic or frustration or anger, he found beauty in that moment.
He understood the nature of his confinement. He was not covered as discipline for disobedience; not because he needed to learn patience or even dependence. No, God had covered him in that place for one purpose: protection from Himself. God was about to be amazing, was about to speak His own name, and that cleft was Moses' only hope for survival. The full goodness of God, the fullness of His glory, was about to pass by the mountain where he stood, and Moses knew that goodness was too much for him.
"No one may see me and live," the LORD said.
God is so good. Too good. When God reveals His goodness, His faithfulness, His very Presence, it is too much for us. When we ask God to move in our lives, do we expect to be able to stand out in the open air and watch Him go by? What is it about God that makes us think the mountaintop is a safe place to meet Him? Moses knew that God was with Him, and he patiently waited in the side of that mountain until the LORD removed His hand and led him out. Sometimes He places us in the tight spots because He's about to be amazing. Sometimes we're safer when we can't move.
~Exodus 33:12-23~
Stuck between a rock and a hard place,
I found that the hard place was Your hand.
He understood the nature of his confinement. He was not covered as discipline for disobedience; not because he needed to learn patience or even dependence. No, God had covered him in that place for one purpose: protection from Himself. God was about to be amazing, was about to speak His own name, and that cleft was Moses' only hope for survival. The full goodness of God, the fullness of His glory, was about to pass by the mountain where he stood, and Moses knew that goodness was too much for him.
"No one may see me and live," the LORD said.
God is so good. Too good. When God reveals His goodness, His faithfulness, His very Presence, it is too much for us. When we ask God to move in our lives, do we expect to be able to stand out in the open air and watch Him go by? What is it about God that makes us think the mountaintop is a safe place to meet Him? Moses knew that God was with Him, and he patiently waited in the side of that mountain until the LORD removed His hand and led him out. Sometimes He places us in the tight spots because He's about to be amazing. Sometimes we're safer when we can't move.
~Exodus 33:12-23~
Stuck between a rock and a hard place,
I found that the hard place was Your hand.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Becoming "Onesimus"
I've been studying the book of Philemon. As I look at it this time around, I'm beginning to understand the impact this story has on my spiritual life. Though it was probably not on Paul's mind when he was trying to help these two men restore their relationship, I suddenly saw a resemblance between the characters in the letter and God, Christ, and myself. I was God's, given a name and a purpose by Him, and I ran so hard just to get away from Him. That's where Christ found me, running and hiding and terrified and angry, and he saved me. Not only did he give me hope, he himself pleaded with God to restore OUR relationship, to take me back as his daughter even though I stole what was rightfully his and denied my purpose and my name. Not only did Paul send Onesimus back to his master (who had every right to torture and kill him) so that they could make amends, but he told Philemon that his slave was finally going to serve his purpose. Onesimus, for the first time in his life, was going to be who he was designed to be.
Onesimus, by the way, means "Useful". He was finally becoming his name.
"Becoming 'Onesimus'"
Here I am
To be my name
Holding nothing
But a letter and my shame
Here I stand
Wanting to be
Everything you have called me
I ran
Through so many lands
To find a way away
No one
Called me “son”
So I looked to the horizon
I cried
I only tried
To free myself from you
I died
So many times
Before I lived
“Anywhere”
He found me there
And showed me how to breathe
He lived
And chose to give
Me part of his own life
I ran
Back through those lands
To meet my brother here
Here I am
To be my name
Holding nothing
But a letter and my shame
Here I stand
Wanting to be
Everything you have called me
Onesimus, by the way, means "Useful". He was finally becoming his name.
"Becoming 'Onesimus'"
Here I am
To be my name
Holding nothing
But a letter and my shame
Here I stand
Wanting to be
Everything you have called me
I ran
Through so many lands
To find a way away
No one
Called me “son”
So I looked to the horizon
I cried
I only tried
To free myself from you
I died
So many times
Before I lived
“Anywhere”
He found me there
And showed me how to breathe
He lived
And chose to give
Me part of his own life
I ran
Back through those lands
To meet my brother here
Here I am
To be my name
Holding nothing
But a letter and my shame
Here I stand
Wanting to be
Everything you have called me
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