I am weak.
Everything today is competition. You must get the better grade, the better job, the better pay-raise, the better spouse, the better house, the better scholarship, the better dog, the better body. As long as you volunteer more often and support a green, pink or rainbow cause, as long as you beat somebody else and get the A instead of the A-, you've achieved.
I don't know this for a fact, but I wouldn't be surprised if this was one of the biggest motivators behind the biggest success stories from middle-class America. To just get ahead of one more person.
I do know for a fact that this is one of the biggest lies in Christianity. As long as your going to church about the same amount of times as the average church-goer, as long as your cut and dried ten-minutes-a-day devotions is longer than your best friends five-minutes-a-day devotional (I mean, come on, we need to fit Jesus somewhere in our overly busy lives). As long as your prophetic insights are mostly right on - that must mean your hearing the Spirit well - and as long as people are being ministered to in powerful way - that means that you've spent so much time with the Lord, His presence cannot help but pour out of you. As long as your prayer is longer than the spiritual leader beside you.
Right?
Even with all of this climbing going on and on, it never seems to go upwards.
What if, while we think we are doing good by being 3 steps ahead spiritually than our neighbor, we should be 50 steps ahead in God's eyes. It's sickly humorous to think that we have made other humans marking points of our achievements. It's as if we think that on Judgment Day, God is going to line us all up in a row according to our spiritual achievements, pull the first billion and send the rest to hell. I thought that we were going to stand before God on Judgment Day. Alone.
I wonder what would happen to the church if she pushed everybody and everything out of her line of vision and just sat there, indian-style, with Jesus and her heart, dangling in the middle for both to see. I wonder what would happen if she asked Him what holiness and truth looked liked in comparison to her heart. I wonder what He would tell her, I wonder what He would ask of her. I wonder if it would change everything.
I bet it would.
I bet the face of Christianity would be completely transformed. There would be less pride, less strife, less striving, less religion. The confidence in the flesh and it's achievement would be completely shattered. The knowledge of Him, His power, His suffering, His righteousness and His holiness would increase. Putting away the grimace of exertion, Christianity would be a well-spring of Joy because it would know that absolutely nothing we achieve in our flesh makes us any holier.
We would know grace. We would believe in grace. The meaning of His mercy towards us would be so much more powerful. We would actually know what true humility is because we would understand that we are nothing that is lasting without Him, constantly renewing our hearts and minds.
And, in the end, everything would funnel down to Love. That is the greatest commandment, no?
To love.
Where would the church be - where would the individual, unique heart be - if every "success" it achieved came from a place of Love? Not out of striving or competition, just Love. Not based out of Modern Day's Handbook of Achieving Spirituality, but out of the intimate and quiet places with the Lord. What if we were like children and did things for the Lord because it simply delighted our hearts to do so?
"Be still and know that I am God." -Psalm 46:10
"But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ....that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law but that which is through faith in Christ-the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead." - Philippians 3:7-11
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06 March 2011
05 February 2011
Confessions
This year I will be 21 years old. But that is another 8 months away.
I was flipping through my journals that I kept in high school today. To avoid sounding cliche, I will not say how crazy it is to look back and see how much I have grown up. I thought I was such a different person than who I really was.
It's confession time.
I started playing on worship teams the summer before my freshman year. For a solid four and a half years, I was a scheduled piano player/singer/leader for one church or another with not too many "off" Sundays. Sometimes I would play on a worship team in the morning at one church and then go help another at a different church. I helped out occasionally with leading worship for Raiders for Christ (student-lead Bible study at school) my sophomore year, and by the beginning of my junior year and then through my senior year, I gradually took over all of the worship leading and a lot of the organization of the Bible study. I led worship nights for the school, as well as for my youth group. I was highly active in my youth group, went on two mission trips a year, attended church regularly and, besides a short "rebellious" stage, didn't listen to too much secular music.
I don't know how people saw me back then -- if I were known as a spiritual leader or, hopefully, just a regular girl who loved Jesus a little bit too much. But for those who thought I "had it," I'm sure they would take it back if they knew that I wrote this [and several similar entries] in my journal on Christmas Day of 2008:
"I've been doing a lot of thinking. About life. The cause? Twilight, The Matrix, [insert boys name;)], college, piano, random church services. Family. How pathetic I am. How dirty, snobby and disgusting I am...I feel as if I'm trying to cheat God. I don't know if I'll be able to come before Him and feel a deep peace. I pretend to be loyal by throwing up prayers every now and again. Don't get me wrong, I love Him. I believe in Him and I want to give my life in service. But it's as if there is a distance that is unfathomable between us. I try to bridge it with prayer and Jesus, but it still remains.
I know it's me. I know it's my selfish waste of time and focusing on temporary "important" scandals and things....I am so young with life, all of life, before me. Exciting, yes, but also gray-filled. Empty. I do know that if I seek Christ and follow Him, He will bring and give me life. Life abundantly. Yet I seem too far away to grasp on to that. I live in between the fields of hope and despair. I can't seem to pull myself into the field of hope. I always fail. I know His grace is enough, His mercies are new every morning, His love endureth forever. I know i could drown in His love, for it is so deep.
But I can't grasp it. It's too far from my heart, I think. I don't know what to do to get it back. I feel like a hypocrite. A big, fat, judging, failing hypocrite."
I was only 18 and was burnt-out and ready to quit. Ha. Tired of doing the same old thing, over and over again. Tired of being the spiritual one, tired of leading worship, tired of running after something that was always just out of my reach. Sick to my stomach of the emotional roller-coaster that I liked to call "My Personal Relationship with Jesus." I was a public leader but, on the inside, I carefully hid a confused, lonely heart.
Thankfully, I kept on trudging along, hoping that something would happen. I knew that God was real, that He was powerful. I had experienced Him in powerful ways before, both in worship and in other times. But my problem was not knowing how to sustain our relationship in between those times. I was always grasping for that same emotion I had felt previously and, when I didn't feel it, believed I was doing something wrong or God was upset with me.
It wasn't until the summer of 2009 when the Lord gave me a "break-through" revelation. After a youth group worship time on a missions trip in Costa Rica, God "confirmed in my heart that I don't have to be feeling an emotion to know He is working, that He's present and that we are loving each other. It just needs to be a sincere heart."
Believe me, I'm not saying from that point on, my relationship with the Lord was all musical notes and butterflies. In fact, the Lord didn't really start hitting me with the deep stuff until about six months after that. But it was the beginning of something big, something true, something real. This revelation freed me to go in to quiet time with Him and hold on to a bright hope that something was happening, even when I was slightly bored and trying not to fall asleep.
And as I steadily set my heart on searching Him out, He began to get inside of my heart. He began to slowly soften my heart, expose lies and wounds I had hidden in my heart and started to work out and erase the big-worded, flowery, confusing and mysterious ideas that I had heard by whole life about Him. Yes, I knew A LOT about Him. But I didn't know Him. I didn't understand His heart towards me or His character.
Of course, once the Lord starts speaking to you in the quiet places of steady devotion, you can't help but want more. You see, once you start to come honestly before the Lord, He answers. Jesus exposed His heart on the cross and, simply, asks for you to do the same thing. Honesty.
I think about what my high school life would have been like if I didn't try living from emotional-high to emotional-high. It could have been powerful. But it's ok. As my friend says, it's good to grow.
I was flipping through my journals that I kept in high school today. To avoid sounding cliche, I will not say how crazy it is to look back and see how much I have grown up. I thought I was such a different person than who I really was.
It's confession time.
I started playing on worship teams the summer before my freshman year. For a solid four and a half years, I was a scheduled piano player/singer/leader for one church or another with not too many "off" Sundays. Sometimes I would play on a worship team in the morning at one church and then go help another at a different church. I helped out occasionally with leading worship for Raiders for Christ (student-lead Bible study at school) my sophomore year, and by the beginning of my junior year and then through my senior year, I gradually took over all of the worship leading and a lot of the organization of the Bible study. I led worship nights for the school, as well as for my youth group. I was highly active in my youth group, went on two mission trips a year, attended church regularly and, besides a short "rebellious" stage, didn't listen to too much secular music.
I don't know how people saw me back then -- if I were known as a spiritual leader or, hopefully, just a regular girl who loved Jesus a little bit too much. But for those who thought I "had it," I'm sure they would take it back if they knew that I wrote this [and several similar entries] in my journal on Christmas Day of 2008:
"I've been doing a lot of thinking. About life. The cause? Twilight, The Matrix, [insert boys name;)], college, piano, random church services. Family. How pathetic I am. How dirty, snobby and disgusting I am...I feel as if I'm trying to cheat God. I don't know if I'll be able to come before Him and feel a deep peace. I pretend to be loyal by throwing up prayers every now and again. Don't get me wrong, I love Him. I believe in Him and I want to give my life in service. But it's as if there is a distance that is unfathomable between us. I try to bridge it with prayer and Jesus, but it still remains.
I know it's me. I know it's my selfish waste of time and focusing on temporary "important" scandals and things....I am so young with life, all of life, before me. Exciting, yes, but also gray-filled. Empty. I do know that if I seek Christ and follow Him, He will bring and give me life. Life abundantly. Yet I seem too far away to grasp on to that. I live in between the fields of hope and despair. I can't seem to pull myself into the field of hope. I always fail. I know His grace is enough, His mercies are new every morning, His love endureth forever. I know i could drown in His love, for it is so deep.
But I can't grasp it. It's too far from my heart, I think. I don't know what to do to get it back. I feel like a hypocrite. A big, fat, judging, failing hypocrite."
I was only 18 and was burnt-out and ready to quit. Ha. Tired of doing the same old thing, over and over again. Tired of being the spiritual one, tired of leading worship, tired of running after something that was always just out of my reach. Sick to my stomach of the emotional roller-coaster that I liked to call "My Personal Relationship with Jesus." I was a public leader but, on the inside, I carefully hid a confused, lonely heart.
Thankfully, I kept on trudging along, hoping that something would happen. I knew that God was real, that He was powerful. I had experienced Him in powerful ways before, both in worship and in other times. But my problem was not knowing how to sustain our relationship in between those times. I was always grasping for that same emotion I had felt previously and, when I didn't feel it, believed I was doing something wrong or God was upset with me.
It wasn't until the summer of 2009 when the Lord gave me a "break-through" revelation. After a youth group worship time on a missions trip in Costa Rica, God "confirmed in my heart that I don't have to be feeling an emotion to know He is working, that He's present and that we are loving each other. It just needs to be a sincere heart."
Believe me, I'm not saying from that point on, my relationship with the Lord was all musical notes and butterflies. In fact, the Lord didn't really start hitting me with the deep stuff until about six months after that. But it was the beginning of something big, something true, something real. This revelation freed me to go in to quiet time with Him and hold on to a bright hope that something was happening, even when I was slightly bored and trying not to fall asleep.
And as I steadily set my heart on searching Him out, He began to get inside of my heart. He began to slowly soften my heart, expose lies and wounds I had hidden in my heart and started to work out and erase the big-worded, flowery, confusing and mysterious ideas that I had heard by whole life about Him. Yes, I knew A LOT about Him. But I didn't know Him. I didn't understand His heart towards me or His character.
Of course, once the Lord starts speaking to you in the quiet places of steady devotion, you can't help but want more. You see, once you start to come honestly before the Lord, He answers. Jesus exposed His heart on the cross and, simply, asks for you to do the same thing. Honesty.
I think about what my high school life would have been like if I didn't try living from emotional-high to emotional-high. It could have been powerful. But it's ok. As my friend says, it's good to grow.
05 January 2011
initiating the Scratch
Tonight and tomorrow, my sister and brother-in-law will be gone from the house. They do this occasionally for birthdays, anniversaries or Christmas presents to each other. I guess they say are able to come up with better words while they play scrabble without me interrupting them...
Either way, when they do this, i am left at home almost all alone. why almost? because there is a sweet little shihtzu that stays here as well. and because i am the best aunt ever, i let him sleep with me on these lonely nights. Tonight being no exception, he was laying on the end of the bed while i was flung out across the other end, sleepily listening to the amazingly Spirit and love-filled song that was recorded by the Corey [r]Asbury Team. I had my arm stretched completely out like a stick with my hand laying limp and my head laying on this arm. I felt harley [the dog] shifting around like he normally does. He must have found my hand and recognized it for it's worth to him - his personal scratcher - because, all of a sudden, his head forcefully pushed into my hand, clearly letting me know that he wanted his head to feel the delightful touch of my fingers. me, of course, being a loving aunt, got a tickle out of this and complied.
What would happen if we approached God like that? i'm mostly tempted to wait on the Lord to move His arm around and beckon me closer for a metaphorical head scratch. i think that, obviously, if He wanted to give me something, He would initiate it. and if He wasn't initiating anything, then everything that i desire is not of or from Him.
but see here is the thing.. it is built into harley's dna to beg for scratches. only mentally insane or horribly abused dogs run away from being scratched and petted. what if there are certain things built into my dna? like those dreams and longings that God placed in my heart way before this earth was created? why would it be wrong of me to ask God for something that is built into my heart, even when He is not specifically initiating it? i think that He actually might like me coming to Him and asking for the desires He placed in my heart, yes?
And when i do come to Him first, it means that i recognize Him for who He is -- my Everything who supplies...everything. It speaks of a close relationship with the Father. Harley doesn't push his head against my armpit to get scratched because he knows it is my awesome fingers that do that.
Now, obviously, if harley all of a sudden sat up and asked me to braid his hair, i would clearly be freaked out and would probably throw him across the room. Why? 1. that's kinda freaky 2. he was made to be a dog, not a human girl. That's why it's so important to know what is going on inside of your heart, to ask God what dreams and desires He's put there, so you don't ask for things that are off the charts. He will let you know.
And what if i had been too tired to scratch the dog? the Lord has perfect timing. if it's not time, He won't scratch. if He's moving forward and you aren't, He will beckon. And the best thing is that, either way, whether He is scratching, beckoning or seeming to lay limp, His thoughts of love are still the same. All the time. Even when we poop on the carpet. yes.
p.s.
here is a link to that sweet awesome song i was listening to. enjoy!: http://mytrumpet.posterous.com/this-is-an-mp3-of-cory-asburys-live-performan-0
p.p.s
please excuse my not-so-excellent way of writing this post...i'm super tired. hopefully my points get across, either way.
Either way, when they do this, i am left at home almost all alone. why almost? because there is a sweet little shihtzu that stays here as well. and because i am the best aunt ever, i let him sleep with me on these lonely nights. Tonight being no exception, he was laying on the end of the bed while i was flung out across the other end, sleepily listening to the amazingly Spirit and love-filled song that was recorded by the Corey [r]Asbury Team. I had my arm stretched completely out like a stick with my hand laying limp and my head laying on this arm. I felt harley [the dog] shifting around like he normally does. He must have found my hand and recognized it for it's worth to him - his personal scratcher - because, all of a sudden, his head forcefully pushed into my hand, clearly letting me know that he wanted his head to feel the delightful touch of my fingers. me, of course, being a loving aunt, got a tickle out of this and complied.
What would happen if we approached God like that? i'm mostly tempted to wait on the Lord to move His arm around and beckon me closer for a metaphorical head scratch. i think that, obviously, if He wanted to give me something, He would initiate it. and if He wasn't initiating anything, then everything that i desire is not of or from Him.
but see here is the thing.. it is built into harley's dna to beg for scratches. only mentally insane or horribly abused dogs run away from being scratched and petted. what if there are certain things built into my dna? like those dreams and longings that God placed in my heart way before this earth was created? why would it be wrong of me to ask God for something that is built into my heart, even when He is not specifically initiating it? i think that He actually might like me coming to Him and asking for the desires He placed in my heart, yes?
And when i do come to Him first, it means that i recognize Him for who He is -- my Everything who supplies...everything. It speaks of a close relationship with the Father. Harley doesn't push his head against my armpit to get scratched because he knows it is my awesome fingers that do that.
Now, obviously, if harley all of a sudden sat up and asked me to braid his hair, i would clearly be freaked out and would probably throw him across the room. Why? 1. that's kinda freaky 2. he was made to be a dog, not a human girl. That's why it's so important to know what is going on inside of your heart, to ask God what dreams and desires He's put there, so you don't ask for things that are off the charts. He will let you know.
And what if i had been too tired to scratch the dog? the Lord has perfect timing. if it's not time, He won't scratch. if He's moving forward and you aren't, He will beckon. And the best thing is that, either way, whether He is scratching, beckoning or seeming to lay limp, His thoughts of love are still the same. All the time. Even when we poop on the carpet. yes.
p.s.
here is a link to that sweet awesome song i was listening to. enjoy!: http://mytrumpet.posterous.com/this-is-an-mp3-of-cory-asburys-live-performan-0
p.p.s
please excuse my not-so-excellent way of writing this post...i'm super tired. hopefully my points get across, either way.
22 December 2010
Birthing Elephants
Imagine for me just a second [or a few minutes]. Even if you realize this is nothing how your morning goes, keep on imagining as if you are in the thick of it. It's OK, it's good for your brain to do this.
You just woke up. You pull yourself out of bed, fumble around for your towel and head toward to the bathroom, hoping you won't run into any walls that had somehow gotten bigger while you were sleeping. Turning the shower water on, you use the toilet and wait for the water to warm up. When you see just the edges of the mirror starting to fog up, you get into the shower. As you slowly go through the shampooing of your hair and washing your body with your raggedy luffa, the events of yesterday, the day before and the day ahead begin to trickle into the grooves of your brain. The insane dream of the dragon eating your sofa with your dog as a condiment that you had been trying to make sense of just moments earlier gets tossed to the side as reality sets in. The situation that you don't really want to deal with, the friend that made you want to rip a light fixture out of the ceiling because of a ridiculous disagreement, and the thing you stupidly agreed to do because you felt pressured all begin to make your stomach feel like an elephant had decided to have it's babies in it. After ten minutes, you get out of the shower, grab your towel and wrap it around your decidedly clean body.
Freeze. Keep on imagining with me but take a still shot of yourself right now. There you are. Naked underneath your towel, your skin red from the steam and uneven from your goosebumps that are starting to form. You hair hangs wet around you [boys, work with me] and you have large black circles underneath your eyes from the make-up you didn't wash off the night before. It's just you with that heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach, feeling decently ugly under your own standards.
Most people don't ever freeze there. They just keep going..get dried off, dressed, put on some make-up, struggle to come up with something cute and creative to do with their hair, grab some coffee on the way out the door and plow through the day, hoping that things will smooth themselves out somehow. Hoping that one of the baby elephants will die during the birthing process and lessen the load a bit.
But what happens when you do freeze. When you don't go. When the trendy clothes, the cute hairstyle, the delicious coffee, the best and understanding friend, the familiar church, the perfect hangout with the coolest people you know, the group that you get along with and that is moving in the same direction you are and the comfort of chocolate are gone. What happens when all the normal [and usually good] comforts of life are gone. What happens when all that you use to escape are no longer to to escape into? When you realize that your best efforts to control are not working?
Over the past several months, I've been occasionally waking up like this. A mess. I've also been finding this to be a problem at night, as well, but I won't force you to imagine anything else in this post. It seems there is a tie between the tender moments of when you are just waking up and the quiet moments in your bed that follow the preparation of having another weird dream in which that person whom you hadn't seen or thought of in years is holding your hairbrush hostage again.
I think the connection between the two times is that it is when you are most vulnerable. It's just you, your thoughts and the unsettling feeling that you are not safe. You are not safe from the difficult situations of life. You are not safe from everyday troubles and their is nothing you can do to close yourself off from them. You are not safe and no matter how many people you have in agreement around you or how much stuff you surround yourself with, you cannot hide from reality that is ultimately out of your control. You still have to deal.
So, how do you deal? Quite simply. Read Psalm 62. You will always find safety in Him. It's where the rest comes in, because you know that you don't have to try to control a thing. He has the best plan for you. And craziest thing, He likes to take care of you. He likes to work you though situations that suck. You should try Him out once in awhile. I guarantee those "once in a whiles" will become "always" very soon.
"Pour out your hearts to Him, for God is our refuge." Yes.
You just woke up. You pull yourself out of bed, fumble around for your towel and head toward to the bathroom, hoping you won't run into any walls that had somehow gotten bigger while you were sleeping. Turning the shower water on, you use the toilet and wait for the water to warm up. When you see just the edges of the mirror starting to fog up, you get into the shower. As you slowly go through the shampooing of your hair and washing your body with your raggedy luffa, the events of yesterday, the day before and the day ahead begin to trickle into the grooves of your brain. The insane dream of the dragon eating your sofa with your dog as a condiment that you had been trying to make sense of just moments earlier gets tossed to the side as reality sets in. The situation that you don't really want to deal with, the friend that made you want to rip a light fixture out of the ceiling because of a ridiculous disagreement, and the thing you stupidly agreed to do because you felt pressured all begin to make your stomach feel like an elephant had decided to have it's babies in it. After ten minutes, you get out of the shower, grab your towel and wrap it around your decidedly clean body.
Freeze. Keep on imagining with me but take a still shot of yourself right now. There you are. Naked underneath your towel, your skin red from the steam and uneven from your goosebumps that are starting to form. You hair hangs wet around you [boys, work with me] and you have large black circles underneath your eyes from the make-up you didn't wash off the night before. It's just you with that heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach, feeling decently ugly under your own standards.
Most people don't ever freeze there. They just keep going..get dried off, dressed, put on some make-up, struggle to come up with something cute and creative to do with their hair, grab some coffee on the way out the door and plow through the day, hoping that things will smooth themselves out somehow. Hoping that one of the baby elephants will die during the birthing process and lessen the load a bit.
But what happens when you do freeze. When you don't go. When the trendy clothes, the cute hairstyle, the delicious coffee, the best and understanding friend, the familiar church, the perfect hangout with the coolest people you know, the group that you get along with and that is moving in the same direction you are and the comfort of chocolate are gone. What happens when all the normal [and usually good] comforts of life are gone. What happens when all that you use to escape are no longer to to escape into? When you realize that your best efforts to control are not working?
Over the past several months, I've been occasionally waking up like this. A mess. I've also been finding this to be a problem at night, as well, but I won't force you to imagine anything else in this post. It seems there is a tie between the tender moments of when you are just waking up and the quiet moments in your bed that follow the preparation of having another weird dream in which that person whom you hadn't seen or thought of in years is holding your hairbrush hostage again.
I think the connection between the two times is that it is when you are most vulnerable. It's just you, your thoughts and the unsettling feeling that you are not safe. You are not safe from the difficult situations of life. You are not safe from everyday troubles and their is nothing you can do to close yourself off from them. You are not safe and no matter how many people you have in agreement around you or how much stuff you surround yourself with, you cannot hide from reality that is ultimately out of your control. You still have to deal.
So, how do you deal? Quite simply. Read Psalm 62. You will always find safety in Him. It's where the rest comes in, because you know that you don't have to try to control a thing. He has the best plan for you. And craziest thing, He likes to take care of you. He likes to work you though situations that suck. You should try Him out once in awhile. I guarantee those "once in a whiles" will become "always" very soon.
"Pour out your hearts to Him, for God is our refuge." Yes.
11 December 2010
the "Bethel" problem
I was reading tonight in Jeremiah 48. It's talking about the horrific destruction of the City of Moab and how they provoked the Lord to anger because of the way they trusted in their deeds and riches, had become lazy, were worshipping other gods and were an overall disgusting fragrance to the LORD. In verse 13 it says, "Then Moab will be ashamed of Chemosh (a god they were currently serving), as the house of Israel was ashamed when they trusted in Bethel."
I was like, wait, I thought Bethel was a sweet awesome place that Jacob wrested with God at and that David ran to find refuge in. And doesn't it mean "house of God??" Why was the house of Israel ashamed when they trusted in Bethel?
So, after looking around, I ended up in Amos. In Amos 5 [actually, in all of Amos], the LORD is calling the nation of Israel to turn their hearts to Him and repent. He says, "Seek me and live; do not seek Bethel, do not go to Gilgal, do not journey to Beersheba." It's as if He is insinuating that Israel thought that, maybe if they went to the places where God was known to have dwelt, they would be safe.
We do this. Often times I think we go to church simply to feel safe. We aren't really seeking the Lord out in our own homes on our own time, thinking that by going to church, we will get our fill for the week. We feel safe in this idea because we are surrounded by a.) people doing the exact same thing as we are b.) "holy" people who will bring the presence of God for the rest of type a people. We are relying on our "Bethel" to save us, not the on-going and growing relationship God requires.
Another "Bethel" problem is going from one place to the next, thinking we will find something that will stimulate our relationship with the Lord. Like, if we go to this internship or this church or this college, we will grow so much deeper in our personal relationship with Him. If we are around this "holy" person or in this certain spiritual environment, they will rub off on us in a dramatic, life-changing way. We think that we will be safe because we placed ourselves under their teaching.
I'm definitely not trying to insinuate that Bible colleges, churches, and teaching is bad. Definitely not. It is mostly true that a "Bethel" is an amazing tool to use to further your relationship with the Lord. But what I am definitely trying to say [and what I feel the Lord is saying] is that a place is not going to make us safe. Our comfort in going somewhere and being apart of something can only rest in the knowing that it is where He told us to go when we sought Him out here, in this time, in our own closet.
It's all about you and God, folks. There is no organization, no church, no holy place that you can go to and be saved, solely because of it's reputation. Safety in God can only come in seeking Him first and then going to "Bethel" because it adds to the solid foundation you have built with Him in the secret place.
Man, it can be so easy to for me to rely on people for my safety. Arg.
I was like, wait, I thought Bethel was a sweet awesome place that Jacob wrested with God at and that David ran to find refuge in. And doesn't it mean "house of God??" Why was the house of Israel ashamed when they trusted in Bethel?
So, after looking around, I ended up in Amos. In Amos 5 [actually, in all of Amos], the LORD is calling the nation of Israel to turn their hearts to Him and repent. He says, "Seek me and live; do not seek Bethel, do not go to Gilgal, do not journey to Beersheba." It's as if He is insinuating that Israel thought that, maybe if they went to the places where God was known to have dwelt, they would be safe.
We do this. Often times I think we go to church simply to feel safe. We aren't really seeking the Lord out in our own homes on our own time, thinking that by going to church, we will get our fill for the week. We feel safe in this idea because we are surrounded by a.) people doing the exact same thing as we are b.) "holy" people who will bring the presence of God for the rest of type a people. We are relying on our "Bethel" to save us, not the on-going and growing relationship God requires.
Another "Bethel" problem is going from one place to the next, thinking we will find something that will stimulate our relationship with the Lord. Like, if we go to this internship or this church or this college, we will grow so much deeper in our personal relationship with Him. If we are around this "holy" person or in this certain spiritual environment, they will rub off on us in a dramatic, life-changing way. We think that we will be safe because we placed ourselves under their teaching.
I'm definitely not trying to insinuate that Bible colleges, churches, and teaching is bad. Definitely not. It is mostly true that a "Bethel" is an amazing tool to use to further your relationship with the Lord. But what I am definitely trying to say [and what I feel the Lord is saying] is that a place is not going to make us safe. Our comfort in going somewhere and being apart of something can only rest in the knowing that it is where He told us to go when we sought Him out here, in this time, in our own closet.
It's all about you and God, folks. There is no organization, no church, no holy place that you can go to and be saved, solely because of it's reputation. Safety in God can only come in seeking Him first and then going to "Bethel" because it adds to the solid foundation you have built with Him in the secret place.
Man, it can be so easy to for me to rely on people for my safety. Arg.
09 December 2010
Knowing This Pearl
As a person who is fairly joyful and finds hilarity out of the smallest of things, I find it most difficult starting off my first blog with the most truthful phrase "Today was a rough day." I would prefer people not to read, groan, stop reading and go to the next site, never to return for the fear of having to read sob stories after sob stories.
However, because I am an honest person who is horrible at lying (yet wonderful at being dramatic), I will start off my blog the way it must.
Today was a rough day. Struggling with the unknown future is a hard struggle. Struggling with my future, having no coffee beans in the house, running out of [good] coffee grounds at work, once again being locked out of my office, shattering a coffee mug that was bought from a tourist store eight hours away that I had never been to, trying [and mostly failing] to set up a semi-cool looking blog [xanga is not at its prime anymore] and having to step back in humility from a position I am used to having, all happening before 1:00pm leads to one big cry-fest for me.
While I do not particularly enjoy such chains of events, I do love one thing about them. They leave me at the end of myself and I am absolutely forced to go crawl in my Daddy's lap. So, I did. And, crazily [not so crazily if you go there a lot], He wrapped me up in some of His peace and grace and told me to look upon Him, to gaze upon His character for awhile. So, I slowly whipped out my Bible and turned to the parable that had "randomly" dropped into my head earlier in the day: the man and the pearl of great price.
In Matthew 13, there is a man in the fields. I figure he must either be a farmer, a gardener or a "crazy" wandering around and digging about in the dirt. I like to think he is the crazy man because I identity with that one the best. Anyways, this man stumbles upon this rare pearl that was of monstrous price. It was worth some much that the man hid it, joyfully stumbled back to his home, sold everything and went to go buy the entire field.
Two interesting quick facts: 1.The fact that he hid it again and didn't just take it like most people affirms my theory of him being crazy. 2.A pearl is the size of a small marble. The fact that he bought the entire field, not just the small parcel it was hidden in, is significant of how much value the pearl had.
When I first read through this, I wondered, why did he hid it? Why didn't he just take it [my crazy theory is sufficient only to my shallow entertainment]? Why? Well. He hid it again, deep down in the soil, because he wanted to protect it from a thief who could pick-pocket it right out of him. He wanted to be the only one who ever had the chance of laying eyes on it. He was selling everything for it: his computer, his tv, his space heater, his leather couch and feather bed. He was even getting ready to drop his 401K plan and disappoint his parents. There was no chance that he was going to let that puppy get away from him. But why? Why go through all of that trouble for the sake of something the size of a marble? Because he understood. He understood the value it, the great price, the unimaginable wealth that the pearl would bring him later on.
Earlier in the chapter, Jesus said that those who hear and see Him but don't understand will have their beliefs and "convictions" snatched right out of their hearts. These people are those who carried away the pearl, loosely handled it and didn't bury it deep.
Though it doesn't say he did, I'm sure the man went back to the field often, making sure the pearl was still there, making sure he wasn't hallucinating. When your in the moment, selling your refrigerator full of iced tea, ham and muenster cheese for something far off in a field can be a difficult experience. That's why it's so important to know, to understand the great price of the Pearl. To keep on going back, always seeking it out, always returning for the grace of knowing how precious and magnificent it is.
Forgive me for the very looong, first post. I think I did pretty well considering I feel that I could preach a whole sermon on this subject. I am hoping that my following posts will be a little more easy on the eyes. Either way, the comfort of your eyes will not even begin to stop me as I begin this worldly-absurd, slightly terrifying and highly adventurous journey of leaving it all behind for the Pearl of great price..
However, because I am an honest person who is horrible at lying (yet wonderful at being dramatic), I will start off my blog the way it must.
Today was a rough day. Struggling with the unknown future is a hard struggle. Struggling with my future, having no coffee beans in the house, running out of [good] coffee grounds at work, once again being locked out of my office, shattering a coffee mug that was bought from a tourist store eight hours away that I had never been to, trying [and mostly failing] to set up a semi-cool looking blog [xanga is not at its prime anymore] and having to step back in humility from a position I am used to having, all happening before 1:00pm leads to one big cry-fest for me.
While I do not particularly enjoy such chains of events, I do love one thing about them. They leave me at the end of myself and I am absolutely forced to go crawl in my Daddy's lap. So, I did. And, crazily [not so crazily if you go there a lot], He wrapped me up in some of His peace and grace and told me to look upon Him, to gaze upon His character for awhile. So, I slowly whipped out my Bible and turned to the parable that had "randomly" dropped into my head earlier in the day: the man and the pearl of great price.
In Matthew 13, there is a man in the fields. I figure he must either be a farmer, a gardener or a "crazy" wandering around and digging about in the dirt. I like to think he is the crazy man because I identity with that one the best. Anyways, this man stumbles upon this rare pearl that was of monstrous price. It was worth some much that the man hid it, joyfully stumbled back to his home, sold everything and went to go buy the entire field.
Two interesting quick facts: 1.The fact that he hid it again and didn't just take it like most people affirms my theory of him being crazy. 2.A pearl is the size of a small marble. The fact that he bought the entire field, not just the small parcel it was hidden in, is significant of how much value the pearl had.
When I first read through this, I wondered, why did he hid it? Why didn't he just take it [my crazy theory is sufficient only to my shallow entertainment]? Why? Well. He hid it again, deep down in the soil, because he wanted to protect it from a thief who could pick-pocket it right out of him. He wanted to be the only one who ever had the chance of laying eyes on it. He was selling everything for it: his computer, his tv, his space heater, his leather couch and feather bed. He was even getting ready to drop his 401K plan and disappoint his parents. There was no chance that he was going to let that puppy get away from him. But why? Why go through all of that trouble for the sake of something the size of a marble? Because he understood. He understood the value it, the great price, the unimaginable wealth that the pearl would bring him later on.
Earlier in the chapter, Jesus said that those who hear and see Him but don't understand will have their beliefs and "convictions" snatched right out of their hearts. These people are those who carried away the pearl, loosely handled it and didn't bury it deep.
Though it doesn't say he did, I'm sure the man went back to the field often, making sure the pearl was still there, making sure he wasn't hallucinating. When your in the moment, selling your refrigerator full of iced tea, ham and muenster cheese for something far off in a field can be a difficult experience. That's why it's so important to know, to understand the great price of the Pearl. To keep on going back, always seeking it out, always returning for the grace of knowing how precious and magnificent it is.
Forgive me for the very looong, first post. I think I did pretty well considering I feel that I could preach a whole sermon on this subject. I am hoping that my following posts will be a little more easy on the eyes. Either way, the comfort of your eyes will not even begin to stop me as I begin this worldly-absurd, slightly terrifying and highly adventurous journey of leaving it all behind for the Pearl of great price..
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