I don't know how God speaks to everyone, but its often my experience that I learn what He is teaching me through themes. The big over-arching theme for me right now is 'trust', but recently that has narrowed in on the idea of dependence. It's been coming up way too many times to ignore and has led my heart into times of repentence. Repentence is always good affirmation that it's really God I'm hearing, so in confidence of that, here is what has sunk in so far:
This theme began to emerge through times of prayer. When lent started, there were several things weighing on my heart. I wrote them all out and have committed to praying for them daily through the lent season. As I've done this, I've noticed the intensity of my asking has increased. With every day that goes by, I have grown to realize more deeply that my ability to change or figure out the answers for any of these things is completely futile. I can't do a thing. I can't even act wisely in the simplest of things without receiving that wisdom from Him. So I have found myself saying more than any other phrase, "Only You can do this." I'm totally dependent.
Then I started reading through the story of Moses in Exodus. I've been completely drawn in. One of the things I keep coming back to is that when you know the whole story, what God is doing is so beyond anything deserved. He is not only redeeming the Israelites from their suffering; He is showing them, through their suffering, who He is. He's proclaiming that He is 'I Am' and He desires to be known in all His greatness. Then I'll suddenly remember that this is the same God who I just spoke to. And He hasn't changed! He is doing the same thing. Orchestrating everything so that we might know Him - the One who is mighty to save. Not just believe in Him, but know Him! That's a precious gift. And one of the things we learn about Him is that He is the sustainer and provider of absolutely every single aspect of who we are. I found this quote from J.A. Thompson's commentary speaking about the Israelites, "Nothing was possible without Him, and even to eat they had to await His pleasure." That level of dependence is not easily learned, but it is the level that I long to know it.
Then in church today we were reminded that suffering develops dependence on God. Indeed. I really don't like suffering and struggle much in watching others go through it. But the treasure that is produced is so attractive to me that, in comparison, suffering feels like a small price to pay.
So I've been putting all these things together and examining my life in light of them. What have I come to? Sorrow mostly. I know so little of this dependence. I feel like a foolish Israelite who continues to trudge along with little thought to the pillar of cloud that is leading me and what His purposes for each moment are. Rather, I catch myself getting hard on myself. Trying to be who I'm not. Trying to change myself by myself. Yet, in His grace, compassion, and patience, He keeps telling me, "You can do nothing. I can do everything. My power will be made perfect in your weakness. Trust Me." Truth has spoken those words. I believe them.
"In repentence and rest is your salvation. In quietness and trust is your strength." -Is. 30:15
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
open
"Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." -Psalm 139:23-24
I think it would be hard for anyone to deny that the Psalms are beautiful, but I gotta say that there are times where my appreciation for them intensifies. I find my life experience in them. There are moments where I think, "Oh, David, I am so right there with you!" Today I had one of those moments.
I identify with Mary (mother of Jesus) when scripture says she "pondered these things in her heart." When God gets our attention, a sense of wonder is produced. His works are something to marvel at. So, I've been pondering things in my heart. The last couple days I've re-read my journal entries starting from a year ago until now. It's been a great read. I'm definitely different. I know Jesus differently. I know Him more personally. I encounter Him tangibly. And He's near! Near to the point where I get why one would say "You are the air I breathe."
What I've been wondering is what made the difference? My walk with God before this 'change' was definitely legit and real - yet I've found myself in much deeper waters, experiencing a Savior who, like David, I marvel at and long for. There's no doubt that the retreat I went on earlier this year triggered this, but why? Why did I come out of that so changed? This is where I started thinking about openness. I remember being encouraged at the begining of the retreat to open myself up to God. And in one sense, it's a no brainer. Duh! But I felt the risk involved in that. I really wrestled with it. I felt vulnerable and wondered if I was opening myself up to more than God. I wanted to be sheltered, I was scared of what I would experience, scared that I would experience more of my own foolishness than God Himself. But I took the risk and, admitting my fear to Him, I opened myself up. Wow did He ever come in.
As He has moved around ever since then, I've been experiencing freedom. He's moving into spaces that I didn't even know were closed. Rooms that I don't like being in. Sore spots. And as He speaks truth to me in each of these rooms, my trust in Him deepens. It's such a healing experience in which I often join David in saying, "Search me and know my heart. Test me. Know my anxiousness. Find the offenses in me. Lead me to You!"
It's hard to articulate, but the way I imagine this change to look like is a turning of my face toward Him. I feel the posture of my heart not only open, but also turned in His direction. Begging to be exposed by the light of His face.
I'm learning. My eyes are being opened, but I know that I have much to see. In fact, the more I begin to 'get it', the bigger it all becomes. Yet, I'm convinced that this is it. This is what it means to be in relationship with Jesus. It's something to be experienced, something that leaves us changed - deeply and miraculously changed. Something completely worthy of opening myself wholly to. A priceless treasure worth absolutely every part of me.
I think it would be hard for anyone to deny that the Psalms are beautiful, but I gotta say that there are times where my appreciation for them intensifies. I find my life experience in them. There are moments where I think, "Oh, David, I am so right there with you!" Today I had one of those moments.
I identify with Mary (mother of Jesus) when scripture says she "pondered these things in her heart." When God gets our attention, a sense of wonder is produced. His works are something to marvel at. So, I've been pondering things in my heart. The last couple days I've re-read my journal entries starting from a year ago until now. It's been a great read. I'm definitely different. I know Jesus differently. I know Him more personally. I encounter Him tangibly. And He's near! Near to the point where I get why one would say "You are the air I breathe."
What I've been wondering is what made the difference? My walk with God before this 'change' was definitely legit and real - yet I've found myself in much deeper waters, experiencing a Savior who, like David, I marvel at and long for. There's no doubt that the retreat I went on earlier this year triggered this, but why? Why did I come out of that so changed? This is where I started thinking about openness. I remember being encouraged at the begining of the retreat to open myself up to God. And in one sense, it's a no brainer. Duh! But I felt the risk involved in that. I really wrestled with it. I felt vulnerable and wondered if I was opening myself up to more than God. I wanted to be sheltered, I was scared of what I would experience, scared that I would experience more of my own foolishness than God Himself. But I took the risk and, admitting my fear to Him, I opened myself up. Wow did He ever come in.
As He has moved around ever since then, I've been experiencing freedom. He's moving into spaces that I didn't even know were closed. Rooms that I don't like being in. Sore spots. And as He speaks truth to me in each of these rooms, my trust in Him deepens. It's such a healing experience in which I often join David in saying, "Search me and know my heart. Test me. Know my anxiousness. Find the offenses in me. Lead me to You!"
It's hard to articulate, but the way I imagine this change to look like is a turning of my face toward Him. I feel the posture of my heart not only open, but also turned in His direction. Begging to be exposed by the light of His face.
I'm learning. My eyes are being opened, but I know that I have much to see. In fact, the more I begin to 'get it', the bigger it all becomes. Yet, I'm convinced that this is it. This is what it means to be in relationship with Jesus. It's something to be experienced, something that leaves us changed - deeply and miraculously changed. Something completely worthy of opening myself wholly to. A priceless treasure worth absolutely every part of me.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
timid
I've found myself stuck in the book of 2 Timothy this week. The whole letter not only leaves me encouraged, but it's also produced a growing curiousity into who Timothy was. A few years ago, a verse describing Timothy in Philippians spoke to me and it came to my mind as I was reading this book. Paul said about Timothy (in Phil. 2:20-22), "I have no one else like him, who will show genuine concern for your welfare. For everyone looks out for their own interests, not those of Jesus Christ. But you know that Timothy has proved himself .." I find that very attractive.
So in this book, Paul is writing to Timothy rather than talking about him. And what I'm so drawn into is that almost immediately in this letter he says, "For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline."
I think I'm timid. But I say that without claiming to understand what exactly timidity is. What's the difference between being timid and "the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit"(I Peter 3:4)? I'm wondering if by wanting the latter I've somehow put on the former. Then I think about Timothy. He was known for his sincere faith and came from a family that lived out this same faith (vs. 5). But Paul must have known something about him. Why else would he point out that timidity does not come from God? Why the reminder to fan his gifts into flame?
I mean, here's Timothy. The great apostle Paul says there is no one like him. He's grown up under faithful servants of God. Paul has laid his hands on him and he possesses gifts. It's not really a formula for insecurity, or is it? It's just that I can totally relate! There are days where 'insecurity' should be my middle name. Intimidated by my day before I even enter it. Afraid of upsetting things. Afraid of imposing on others. Afraid of being seen as arrogant or prideful. Afraid of the damage my flesh could do. Afraid of hurting someone or the worst ever, disappointing them. Fear. Fear. Fear.
As I typed that last 'Fear', it hit me that in some versions the word 'timid' is translated as 'fear'. No wonder I relate :) So how does one respond to all this? I wonder what went through Timothy's mind when he read those words. I wonder what his gifts were. What was he afraid of? What held him back? How did he respond?
I've grown too aware of the 'bigness' of God to not respond with a growing sense of boldness. Paul reminded Timothy that the Spirit of God gives us power, love, and self-discipline. He told him to fan those gifts of his into flame. It's like he's saying, "Don't forget who God is because who you are (or aren't) matters nothing in light of that. You possess Him, and therefore have nothing to fear. So be confident and embrace Him. Embrace those gifts." It's all about who God is, and that is why I find this book so encouraging.
As a bonus thought, when I re-read this verse, I keep stopping on the word 'power'. Not really sure why, but something in me attaches prayer to that word. I've had my thinking shifted to see prayer as the most powerful gift we have from God. So often I have entered prayer 'timidly', with a fear of offending God and a shyness in my requests (being careful that I not set Him up to fail me). But to enter prayer believing deeply in it's power - that changes things completely. One cannot be convinced of the power of prayer without being convinced of the One who is Power. Prayer is a bold proclamation of one's belief in God. And when in prayer I proclaim my belief in Him, shout praises, express gratitude, grieve over my sin and in dependence plead my desires, I feel His power. I think His Spirit of Prayer is pretty synonymous with a Spirit of Power. Or they atleast work so closely together that it's hard to distinguish one from the other.
So I'll end this by saying that I intend to continue to "reflect on what (Paul) is saying, for the Lord will give insight into all this." (2 Tim. 2:7)
So in this book, Paul is writing to Timothy rather than talking about him. And what I'm so drawn into is that almost immediately in this letter he says, "For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline."
I think I'm timid. But I say that without claiming to understand what exactly timidity is. What's the difference between being timid and "the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit"(I Peter 3:4)? I'm wondering if by wanting the latter I've somehow put on the former. Then I think about Timothy. He was known for his sincere faith and came from a family that lived out this same faith (vs. 5). But Paul must have known something about him. Why else would he point out that timidity does not come from God? Why the reminder to fan his gifts into flame?
I mean, here's Timothy. The great apostle Paul says there is no one like him. He's grown up under faithful servants of God. Paul has laid his hands on him and he possesses gifts. It's not really a formula for insecurity, or is it? It's just that I can totally relate! There are days where 'insecurity' should be my middle name. Intimidated by my day before I even enter it. Afraid of upsetting things. Afraid of imposing on others. Afraid of being seen as arrogant or prideful. Afraid of the damage my flesh could do. Afraid of hurting someone or the worst ever, disappointing them. Fear. Fear. Fear.
As I typed that last 'Fear', it hit me that in some versions the word 'timid' is translated as 'fear'. No wonder I relate :) So how does one respond to all this? I wonder what went through Timothy's mind when he read those words. I wonder what his gifts were. What was he afraid of? What held him back? How did he respond?
I've grown too aware of the 'bigness' of God to not respond with a growing sense of boldness. Paul reminded Timothy that the Spirit of God gives us power, love, and self-discipline. He told him to fan those gifts of his into flame. It's like he's saying, "Don't forget who God is because who you are (or aren't) matters nothing in light of that. You possess Him, and therefore have nothing to fear. So be confident and embrace Him. Embrace those gifts." It's all about who God is, and that is why I find this book so encouraging.
As a bonus thought, when I re-read this verse, I keep stopping on the word 'power'. Not really sure why, but something in me attaches prayer to that word. I've had my thinking shifted to see prayer as the most powerful gift we have from God. So often I have entered prayer 'timidly', with a fear of offending God and a shyness in my requests (being careful that I not set Him up to fail me). But to enter prayer believing deeply in it's power - that changes things completely. One cannot be convinced of the power of prayer without being convinced of the One who is Power. Prayer is a bold proclamation of one's belief in God. And when in prayer I proclaim my belief in Him, shout praises, express gratitude, grieve over my sin and in dependence plead my desires, I feel His power. I think His Spirit of Prayer is pretty synonymous with a Spirit of Power. Or they atleast work so closely together that it's hard to distinguish one from the other.
So I'll end this by saying that I intend to continue to "reflect on what (Paul) is saying, for the Lord will give insight into all this." (2 Tim. 2:7)
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