Photo Credit: Andrew Ruiz https://unsplash.com/photos/KWVeNYpmlTs
The shadows lengthen Daylight flees So I stand and wonder At the majesty Think I will rest awhile In the honeysuckle breeze
The stars peek out Over leafy trees Planets dance Through the galaxy I sit down with God In the honeysuckle breeze
Fireflies hover Crickets sing I hear the songs Of a summer’s eve I listen with God In the honeysuckle breeze
In the honeysuckle breeze I sigh and lean back My head on His heart How could I forget That this is His part I commune with God In the honeysuckle breeze
Years ago in church we sang a song that struck a chord in my heart and resonated through my life for years. The lyrics were simple, “Open the eyes of my heart, I want to see You.” I have whispered that phrase more than any other request in my prayer closet. I want to see God. I want to hear Him. I want to commune with Him so deeply that I may know Him as fully as possible in this human frame.
I have to believe that I am not alone in this desire. Made in the image of the Creator, we instinctively long for His glorious presence. It is the paradox of loving God to be satisfied and moved to greater hunger at the same moment.
Moses stood on Sinai’s rocky summit and pleaded, “If I have found favor in Your sight, show me Your ways that I may know You…Show me Your glory.”(Exodus 33:13,18)
David mused, “This one thing I desire that I may dwell in Your house all the days of my life, to gaze on Your beauty and inquire in Your temple.”
The human heart has always cried, Let me SEE You, God! That is why I don’t believe that Jesus was surprised at the dinner conversation in the upper room that night. As He assured the disciples that because they had known Him they had also known the Father, Philip sat with his heart burning in his chest. He sat there until he couldn’t hold it in any longer and exclaimed, “Lord, show us the Father [cause us to see the Father—that is all we ask]; then we shall be satisfied.” (Jn 14:8)
I love that the Lord didn’t rebuke Philip for the request. I can imagine that a small smile played around His lips as He responded, Have I been with all of you for so long a time, and do you not recognize and know Me yet, Philip? Anyone who has seen Me has seen the Father. (14:9) Jesus was plain that night. He was no longer asking, do you know Who I Am? He was telling them openly, If you want to see God, look at Me.
I don’t know about you, but I can identify with Philip. How often have I thought, If I could only see God in my circumstance! It is usually in some hard situation, when rejection has stung my heart, or the bank account is low, or disappointment has left me wrung out and aching. I say it when I feel intimidated by some challenge I am facing in life. If only I could see God –see Him moving, rearranging our circumstances, DOING something–then I could trust, believe, hold on, be satisfied where I am!
That is when I have to remind myself, these eyes can only see by the light of this world, and my relationship with the Lord is rests on something far superior than the dirt in which I stand. This salvation is not determined by my senses, my religious devotion, my frantic activity, and most definitely not by my feelings. No matter what I feel, no matter what I hear, no matter what I see, my relationship with God is dependent on one thing alone–what Jesus did on the cross. Jesus paid the price for my sins and He loves me with an unstoppable passion. So when the devil comes whispering how I am alone and vulnerable, I choose to stand my ground on the beachhead of my emotions and declare, “By faith, I will stand and look at God. I will see Him in the words of red in my Bible. I see God when I look at Jesus.”
Maybe that is where you are today–desperately needing to see God. Maybe you just need a faith lift. If so, I have a word for you from the Lord for you, “If you want to see God, LOOK AT ME!”
Are you feeling alone? Look at Jesus Who has said, I will never leave you nor forsake you. (Heb 13:5) Is your money shorter than your month? Look at Jesus Who has said, How much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him? (Mt 7:11 ) Are you facing a struggle that is just bigger than you are? Look at Jesus Who says to boat sinking waves, Peace, be still! (Mk 4:39) Just look at Jesus and be assured that He loves you! Take heart, your Help is much closer than you realize!
Pray with me?
Father, we come with eyes open to Your presence. We trust You, in the good times and the hard times, and even in the dark. We ask You to reveal Your love for us in the face of Jesus. We look at You in faith. Help us to see You.
She stood on the cold pavement shivering. The robe which had been cast over her bare shoulders could not hide her from the accusing stares of the angry men who had snatched her from the bedsheets on which she had lain only moments before. The promise of the man with whom she shared that intimate moment had been nothing more than a lie and rang bitter in her ears. As the door burst open on their tryst, he had simply moved aside and allowed the men to drag her out into the streets. Her cries for mercy had been useless as the men had pushed and pulled her down the dusty thoroughfare and into the temple court.
The irony of the moment did not escape her, that she stood wrapped in shame and guilty so close to the holy places where she had come as a child with her father to worship. The temple had been such a special place in her memories. The sense of God’s holiness made the very ground seem sacred. But today, she knew that she had no business being here. She had nothing in common with holiness today. She had given in to the passion and whispered compliments of the man, one she knew had a wife at home.
Her heart ached with sorrow as she heard the scathing insults and accusations of the crowd. Their taunts cut her heart like a blade. “This woman,” the word sounded like an insult as they spat it out. “ This woman was caught in the very act of adultery. Now Moses in the Law commanded us that such shall be stoned to death. But what do You say?”
Glancing up through the curtain of her hair, she saw the Rabbi that was being given opportunity to declare her judgment. He looked at her for a long moment, then turned and looked at the indignant group of men surrounding her. She braced herself for the rocks to begin striking her, but to her amazement the sentence never came. Instead, the Man knelt down and began marking letters in the dirt using His finger.
As the crowd murmured, demanding the sentence be pronounced that would end her life, the Man stood again to His feet. Wiping the dust from His hand, He spoke calmly. “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” He quietly bent and resumed His careful writing on the ground. A hush swept the court and slowly the men walked away, one by one convicted of their own moral bankruptcy, until only the woman remained.
She stood there and waited in the shadow of the temple. She waited to be condemned. She waited to die. Finally Jesus stood up and looked into her eyes. She saw the compassion in His face as He asked, “Woman, where are your accusers? Has no man condemned you?”
Relief washed over her as she wiped the tears from her dust stained face. She had never received such grace before. “No man, “ she said with her voice trembling.
“ Neither do I condemn you, “ Jesus answered. “Go and sin no more.”
Pulling her robe around her closely, she nodded her agreement. In the shadow of the temple, she had found grace and mercy that she had not deserved. As she walked out the gate and toward her home, she felt something that had eluded her for many years. She felt clean. She was forgiven. (from John 8:1-11)
Can I be real with you? I love that the scripture does not name this woman. Her identity as an adulterer died in the shadow of the temple as her blatant sin met the Lord’s lavish grace. She came near stained, deserving the judgment the crowd was demanding. As she walked out of the temple court, she knew how narrowly she had escaped the stones of her angry accusers. All that stood between her and death was Jesus, and He had been enough.
That is my story. I came to the Lord in an old country church many years ago. I do not remember what the pastor was preaching that day. But I do remember the feeling that my heart would beat out of my chest if I did not respond to his invitation to pray at the altar. I knelt to pray as a sinner, but when I rose from that place I felt as though I had been freshly bathed and completely clean.
I am the woman caught in her sins, cornered by her accuser and deserving judgment. My sin didn’t particularly look like this unnamed woman in scripture, but I was stained just the same. I was exposed and guilty in the sight of a holy God. But when I stood in the shadow of Jesus’ cross, I received outrageous grace and a mercy I could not deserve. The death penalty justice demanded for my sins was paid in full when He lay down His life on the cross. All that stood between me and hell was Jesus, and He was enough.
How about you? Have you stood in the shadow of the cross and found mercy yet? If you are living a weary life, heavy with sin and stained with regret, exposed in front of God and man, let me offer you some hope. The cross still casts its shadow on all who would seek forgiveness there. No sin is too great for the Lord to forgive. You may be a mess, but that doesn’t intimidate God. Jesus is still enough.
Will you pray with me?
Father, we come to You in Jesus’ name and we confess that we have sinned. We have lied, cheated, stolen, been proud, been cruel, and so many other things. We do not deserve Your forgiveness and love, yet You offer it so freely.
We believe that Jesus died on the cross paying the penalty for our wrongdoing. We ask You to forgive us and to cleanse us from our sins according to Your word. We thank You for the shadow of the cross on our lives. We leave our old identities as sinners in that shadow. Jesus is, and always will be, enough.
After His resurrection, Jesus walked unbeknownst with two of his disciples on the road to Emmaus. As they lamented His crucifixion and discussed the recently vacated tomb, Jesus asked them, “Was it not necessary and essentially fitting that the Christ (the Messiah) should suffer all these things before entering into His glory (His majesty and splendor)?” (Luke 24:26, Amplified Bible)
I have been reading about the trial, sufferings, and crucifixion of Jesus, and to be transparent, I am so uncomfortable reading it. It hurts my heart to think of my Jesus–my Beloved, my Delight, my Savior–ridiculed, spit on, beaten, bruised, gasping for air, and dying. It is hard to look at the cruelty of man facing off with the love of God. Sometimes, when I reach this part of the Gospels, I hurry through the chapter to get to the empty tomb part.
But today, it seems like I can hear the Lord asking me that question, “Was it not necessary?” You see, I like resurrection morning, but without Calvary’s suffering I will misunderstand an empty tomb. I want to know Him and the power of His resurrection, but I have to be willing to share in the fellowship of His sufferings and be conformed to His death to get there (Phil 3:10)
If I don’t see Jesus with spit on His face, I won’t be willing to let an unbelieving society “spit” in mine with their ridicule and disdain. If I don’t see Him being like a lamb silent in front of false accusation, I will feel the need to shout in my own defense and vindication. If I don’t see Him pick up His cross, I might not pick up mine. If I don’t watch Him gasping for air but praying for His executioners, I won’t pray for those who are cruel to me. If I don’t watch Him die for me, I won’t be willing to die for Him–either the death of my own self-will or in kneeling on a beach in front of a man with a sword should circumstances dictate it.
IT IS NECESSARY! It was absolutely necessary for Jesus to suffer for my salvation to be effective. It is absolutely necessary for me to eat the bread of Calvary on a regular basis. Gladly will I look at the Man of Sorrows in order to walk on the road with the Resurrected Christ!
Pray with me?
Lord, we thank You for the sufferings that You walked through for our sakes. We praise You for loving us enough to die for us. We choose to eat the bread of Calvary and to be identified with Your cross.
Years ago, my sons and I took our trip of a lifetime vacation in the form of a Mediterranean cruise that sailed out of the port town of Civitavecchia just outside Rome. The entire journey was a whirlwind of strange airports, conversations I could not understand, vistas I had only seen in magazines, and menus where we guessed what we were ordering. Though the tours were not overtly spiritual offerings, I could not pass up the opportunity to see the ruins of the city of Ephesus in Turkey.
After all, it was in Ephesus that Paul taught for a space of about three years with such an effective outreach that the local idol makers stirred up a mob because they were losing so much business. In his letter to the Ephesian church, Paul spoke eloquently about the mystery of Christ and His church, as well as gave instructions on living a life that glorifies God. When Jesus told the apostle John on the Isle of Patmos to send letters to the seven churches in Asia (modern Turkey), Ephesus was the first congregation He mentioned.
This little Bible-packing momma could not wait to get into the crowded tour bus that ferried the mostly American cruise ship passengers from the dock to the archaeological digs at Ephesus. We walked on ancient cobblestone streets past fields where workers were still trying to piece the puzzle of the abandoned city together using the broken columns and stones that had been unearthed. We gawked at the amphitheater where that Ephesian riot Paul had precipitated happened. We saw ornate carved building facades and humble stone residences that had lain long empty.
We followed our guide on the winding path until he stopped in front of a temple dedicated to a Roman Emperor named Domatian. Though it lay in broken ruins, it was easy to see how impressive the structure had been when constructed sometime in the first century AD. Domitian had been a popular but ruthless military leader who declared himself to be lord and god. Though the story of the emperor who demanded worship was interesting, what arrested my attention was the carved letters on the city block wall just across from the temple. Our muslim guide pointed out the rough carving with a smile and told us it was ancient graffiti. Roughly it translated to this: “There is one God and His name is Jesus.”
I cannot tell you how those carved letters have challenged my complacency and arrested any spiritual arrogance I was harboring. “There is one God, Jesus”. Can you imagine that Christian man standing alone on the dark street long ago? He stood with his heart burning and a tool in his hand, dodging the Roman soldiers as they made their rounds through the city. He risked his life to rebut the Roman hubris that would build a temple for the worship of a political leader. He didn’t sign his carved note, but I cannot help but recognize the passion of this fellow believer.
“There is one God, Jesus.” How brave was this man? He published his message for travellers to witness for centuries, far longer than the pagan temple stood. He declared Jesus was God in the face of the military force that was both ruthless and skilled at torturing political enemies. I want to applaud this faceless first century Christian. I want to stand and cheer such unyielding faith!
However, I have read Revelations 2:1-7 and placing that man’s handwriting next to Jesus’ message to the church of Ephesus shakes me to the core. Jesus tells the church that He has seen the works they are doing in His name and how they are laboring for Him, how they are sticklers for right doctrine and eschewing wickedness. Yet he has one thing against the church of Ephesus. The man with a burning heart chiseling out his declaration of faith on Ephesian stones is part of the church that the Lord says had left its first love!
Is this what the Ephesians’ love looked like when it had cooled and been placed on the back burner of the church program and organizational plan? What then did the fiery zeal look like when they started the Christian walk? More relevant to me, what does my love look like to God when I am drawn to a recliner instead of a prayer closet? What does He think when I am tired and stay home instead of pressing in to worship on a Wednesday night?
I have thought about first love for some time now. When love for the Lord was first sparked in my heart, it was born in deep gratitude as I felt the cleansing power of my salvation. It was white hot passion about the Savior Who had died for me, but it was very immature. I really didn’t understand what being a Christian meant. Answered prayers and poured out blessings seemed like an easy path, a no-brainer kind of decision to make. It took time and experience for me to realize that Jesus was a good choice even when the answer to my prayers was no and when my path led through dark places. My first love might have been immature, but the Lord knew it was real. That is the place He wants to find my heart. First love is what He calls the highest place in our relationship with Him.
The phrase translated first love is the Greek protos agape. Protos means first (or chief or preeminent) in time, place, or order while agape means love and affection turned toward another. The first love that had been abandoned by the Ephesians was not simply the initial spark of relationship with Jesus. They had stopped making Jesus and love for Him their reason. Works and church business had superseded that intimate relationship with the Lord in Ephesus.
The problem faced by Ephesus is not foriegn to the church today. Don’t get me wrong, I love the church. It is the beautiful Body of Christ and God’s plan for this age of humanity. However, we can plan and program Jesus right out of the building. Anytime Jesus is not our reason for outreach or building plans, we have left first love. Anytime we can choose to cut worship short or water down our message to be consumer-friendly, we have left first love.
I can even do it in my own personal life. When comfort or convenience drives me rather than heeding the call of the Lord to a prayer closet, I have left my first love. Holding what is mine rather than giving generously to support the work of the gospel means I have left my first love. If me and mine are more important that Him and His, my love has cooled and fallen from its lofty place.
I believe we are living in what the Bible calls the Last Days, a time when deception is abundant. The church around the world has faced great persecution, but in our country the church’s greatest threat is becoming so culturally acceptable that there is nothing found in us to be an offense to the world. To follow Jesus fully and live with that fiery love that stands in opposition to the political correctness like our first century friend in Ephesus, we must choose to return to our first love. Jesus, first and foremost, must be our reason.
The good news is that Jesus knew what He was getting when He called us to Himself. He knew we would blow it at times. He was never surprised when we choose the wrong road. The way back is marked out by the Lord in scripture and power enabled by Holy Spirit. Revelation 2:5 is a roadmap to return to first love’s fire. “Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent and do the first works…” Remember. Repent. Redo.
Remember. Remember Who He is and what He has done for us. Jesus was not a weak man who was victimized by Roman soldiers on a cross. He is God. He could have called angel armies to shut down that torture show at any time. Instead, He chose to embrace the pain and suffering of crucifixion in order to pay the price for our sins. It was His strength that kept Him suspended between heaven and earth on a cross beam that day. He did that for us, so we could have a new life in the kingdom of God. I don’t know about you, but my sins were heavy chains from which I could not rid myself. Jesus set me free. Remember what the Lord has done for you. Remember the zeal that burned in your bones. Remember the intimate places of prayer and worship.
Repent. Repent that anything became more important than Jesus. It is so easy to become distracted and unfocused in our daily lives. Work schedules and life’s busyness can slide into the place that belongs to Jesus. Distraction blows its cool breath on that fiery passion we once felt for Him. Repentance begins by recognizing the problem and choosing to do something different to change it. Repent and do something about it. Delete the app off your phone that steals your attention. Refuse to engage in the office gossip. The Lord will put His finger on what you need to change.
Redo. Do the first works again. Get back into the baptismal waters if you feel Him lead you to it. The waters that covered you as you made your commitment will also seal your recommitment. Bend yourself again to prayer. Get alone with God, put on some music, and tell the Lord how lovely He is. Pull your bible out and turn your television off. Choose to make Him first place again. When you do these things, I can tell you from experience that God will reignite the passion that you feel you have lost.
Personally, I have had to heed the invitation to come back to the flames of first love enough times that I welcome the conviction that draws me there. I want to be bold enough to write on some walls when it seems the culture around me has forgotten God. After all, there is only one God. His name is Jesus.
Will you pray with me?
Father, we want to return to our first love and give Jesus the preeminence in our lives. Forgive us our busy distraction. We repent of allowing anything else to take Jesus’ place. We remember Who You are and what You have done. We run to You again. Let Your fire burn in our hearts again.
Let me be real. I haven’t blogged for several weeks. Time was scarce and slipped away a minute at a time with work, charting, laundry, dishes, and more laundry. I was relieved when my birthday and the extra day off I had requested finally rolled around. I had made plans for cooking, shopping, and holiday time with my niece Meagan. Then she left me.
Just like that. She was gone. All the years of birthday parties and little girl dreams sat a heap of ashes in a small white box. All the prayers I had prayed and worry I had carried were just gone. I am still trying to wrap my head around never getting another text or phone call from her. There was so much that she still needed to do. Her children needed her. I needed her.
You see, my niece was an addict. We had learned years ago that if we told her what she should do, she was more likely than not to run the other direction. She chose circumstances that were hard sometimes because she felt that it would teach us a lesson. My mother told me to stop worrying, that Meagan would eventually give up and turn to us. Instead, she found a new love and an easier way. First it was something she could roll into a joint and let the stress roll away, then the pill that she could crush and get high. Finally she found the ultimate lover that fit in a syringe and took the world away.
This last year was so bad. She was caught using drugs in my mother’s kitchen, and I told her it was rehab and us or the people who were supplying her addiction. We lost. She grew so thin. I fed her many times, often looking for her on my way home to give her a ride and buy her something hot. She slept on people’s couches and in their backrooms. She stole food and dug donated clothing out of a dumpster. I wept, but anything I bought her was opened so it could not be returned for money to buy more meth.
I kept pounding the message that rehab was the way out of her mess. I prayed for her. I took her to church at times, and never stopped telling her I believed in her and loved her. She sat beside me and reached for Jesus and wept soft tears, then turned from her praying to find her next fix. Then, I got the call that I had dreaded for so long. A police officer had knocked on my mother’s door and told her that Meagan had been found with a syringe beside her. The little girl I had long called my ladybug was gone.
If love could have saved her, she had so much more of that than she realized. If worry could have changed the situation, I have done that far more than anyone knows. I will miss her voice and the flash of her brown eyes. I will miss having birthday parties and holiday dinners where her only request was some of my macaroni salad. I will always question, could I have done more? Was there a place in this downward spiral where I could have placed a road block? Was my tough love really love of my own comfort?
I am grieving, but I have this one hope. You see, I believe in a God Who loves His children with a God-sized love and responds to them with pity that has no measure. I was there when Meagan prayed a sinner’s prayer as a teenager. I drove far out of my way to take her to church over the years where I saw her stand with tears rolling down her cheeks during worship. I saw her reach for the Lord—and I know my God enough to understand that He sees our frailty and reaches much farther than we can.
The Jesus Who looked on the multitudes standing on the hillside and had compassion for them because they were like sheep without a shepherd also looked on this little lamb of mine. I am grateful for the words He spoke, that He would not cast out any who came to Him. What I could not do in my weakness, He has done now in His strength. That little sheep could not free herself from the snare into which she had fallen, but she was His sheep nonetheless. I feel the assurance in my soul that Meagan is healed, whole, happy at last in His arms. I will see her again. That is my hope.
So please forgive me for my silence lately, and overlook the tear in my eye. I am just missing my ladybug.
Ladybug, Ladybug Fly away home Jesus is waiting In heaven’s open door
Ladybug, Ladybug Fly away home All that was lost Will now be restored
Ladybug, Ladybug I wish you could stay You had so much to do And I had so much to say
Ladybug, Ladybug Fly away home The bright Sun is shining No night on that shore
Ladybug, Ladybug Fly away home So much laughter and love Are waiting in store
Ladybug, Ladybug The Lord made you a way I will follow behind And come see you someday ?
Jesus attracted crowds. Everywhere He went, people came. It would have been odd if He had not gained a following and a reputation as He walked the dusty streets of ancient Israel teaching about God’s heart, healing the sick, and working wonders. When Jesus came to town, people stopped their daily routines to get near the miracle power of God that showed up at every turn He made. They were amazed and rejoiced at what they were seeing. Except that day when He sailed up to the shore of Gerasa.
On that day, Jesus stepped out of the boat in which He and disciples had spent the stormy night and immediately was confronted with a shrieking wild man, naked and covered in scars. This man had a desperate, broken existence, alive but not really living. According to the gospel of Mark, he “had his dwelling among the tombs” where he roamed day and night with no companion except for the cold stones marking the graves of people he had known and maybe loved. The pain inside him was lessened only by the stinging of his skin as he cut and pounded his arms and legs with stones.
The townspeople had done what they thought was their duty. Not understanding the intensity of his suffering, they tried to restrain him with chains and shackles. Since they could not deal with his dysfunction, they sought to at least protect their families from him. His problem was not some disease that a physician could treat or a psychological issue that could be counseled out of him. His torment was spiritual, tortured from within, and only someone with power greater than the demons that gripped him could help.
As the sun rose that day, he had watched the tiny ship approaching the shore in the morning light. There was a struggle inside of him as he felt the almost magnetic pull to run to the shore, but at the same time compelled to run away and hide behind the familiar stones that he called home. The internal warfare continued as he haltingly approached the robed figure stepping on to the ground and heading his way. It was as though the Man from the boat had come intentionally to seek him out, and though the tormenting darkness inside him urged and prodded him to hide, he would not. This Man from the boat, this moment, was too important. So he stood there naked and broken, bleeding and bruised, screaming in fear and pain while Jesus drew closer and closer.
The man heard his own voice, but knew he was not the one speaking. The conversation between Jesus and the darkness that had long controlled him was brief. The simple command for the demons who had long tormented him to go was all that it took for his freedom. Demons shrieked and cursed and came out of him, entering into the herd of swine on the hillside nearby. No more shackles and chains, tombs or darkness, freedom was found in the presence of Jesus. The peace that had long evaded him fell like a blanket around the man’s shoulders. Taking the robe that was offered by the disciples, the man covered himself and melted into the open arms of Jesus. Gratitude flooded his heart as he felt loved and accepted for the first time in years.
And the pigs? Unable to bear the torment the man had lived with day and night, they squealed and stampeded, and rushed past their caretakers off the small cliff and into the sea. Soon, the people from Gerasa came. First a few men came but as word spread, more showed up –farmers, shopkeepers, women, and children. Looking over the cliff at the mass of dead swine gently floating away from the shore, they turned in wonder to see the man whom they had feared and chained time after time. He was sitting at the feet of Jesus listening intently as He spoke, looking for all the world like a normal person.
Wouldn’t you think that the people would be celebrating at that point? Wouldn’t you think that they would have been glorifying God for transforming the man’s tortured life with just a word? Wouldn’t you expect a parade? Or a cheer to rise up from the crowd? Or a dinner party with dancing and feasting? None of that happened. Instead, they began to ask Jesus to leave. They were afraid, but not of the man who had been possessed by devils. They were afraid of what else Jesus would do. The pigs had been their property, and there had been a lot of them. They had raised the swine to butcher, to sell, to barter for goods they wanted or needed. This man’s deliverance had cost them a lot of money.
Jesus walked back to the water’s edge where the boat sat waiting. He smiled gently when the man asked to go with Him and made a simple request, “Will you stay here and tell people what God has done for you?” The man stood quietly and watched the boat push off from shore. He stood there long after the crowd had made its way back to town. When he could no longer make out the standing figure of the Lord, he turned and walked back up the hill. He looked at the tombs where he had spent his time for the past many seasons and felt a wave of joy wash over him. He started down the path toward the town with a smile. He had a story to tell and he couldn’t wait.
When I read this narrative in my morning devotions, I was moved at the thought of Jesus crossing the Sea of Galilee in order to free a man living in darkness. I was reminded that I was once bound in chains of depression and dark hopelessness, but then Jesus set me free too. I rejoiced at the power and compassion of my Savior. I was encouraged by the notion that by virtue of his testimony, this man who had known such deep sorrow had become one of the first evangelists of the new covenant. People may not have been convinced by some theological discourse he delivered, but they could not withstand his testimony. Once I was that, but now I am this.
But then there were these troublesome townspeople. Their blatant disregard for this man’s suffering and subsequent deliverance was offensive to me. This man’s miracle didn’t make them wonder, because his misery didn’t make them weep. They were removed from the horror of his life except at the moments when their paths intersected. He was simply in the background of their lives, easy to avoid. Instead of rejoicing at his freedom, they were calculating what it costed them. These folks rejected the Lord because their hearts were concerned with pigs.
A heart concerned with pigs—this phrase challenges me. How often have I lived with my heart concerned with pigs, or should I say my comfort and convenience? I don’t know about you but I have a tendency to complain when things don’t go my way or when difficulty accompanies my steps. I can be so concerned with how a situation affects me and my plans that I do not look close enough to see the needs of others who may be carrying heavy loads. This unhealthy focus on what I want and desire is like a cancer eating away at my spiritual life.
How many people have I walked past in the grocery store without a kind word or glance? Whose daughter was that young woman walking down the road clutching a bag with her belongings tucked inside? Had that homeless man had a hot meal today or this week? Was that man carefully counting out change at the gas station trying to get enough gas to make it to work and feed his famly? Do any of them know that God loves them, or that He sent His Son to bear the price for their freedom? Aren’t they worth more than the things–the pigs–I have set my heart on?
I don’t know about you, but I am unsatisfied with a pig-centric world view. Selfishness and self-preservation simply cannot walk hand in hand with the Savior. The Jesus I read about teaches us to live in a far different way. He bids us lay down our lives with all our selfish plans and purposes to take up the higher life that He offers us. He hands us a towel and instructs us to serve one another. He offers us a cross to carry where we can crucify our flesh and its self-centered desires.
If we will walk with Jesus, we must walk as He walk, and I really want to walk with Him. Sometimes, I just need to take a moment and sit at His feet so that I can see more clearly what matters most. I never want Him to see my heart concerned with pigs.
Oft times when my thoughts are scattered, I find that meditating on the model prayer that Jesus gave His disciples gives structure to my prayer time. That was where I was that day, my mind on laundry and dusting, on getting things ready for work the next day, on the million voices of daily life that vied for my attention.
“Father, which art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name,” the words rolled off my tongue with practiced ease. Suddenly, I was gripped by the question, What Name, Father? What Name is it that I am declaring is sanctified, to be reverenced, held as Holy?
A name is more specific than a mere word. I may say boy, and any young male I encounter would fit that description. But when I say the NAME of my son Braden, there is a flood of memories and emotions that accompany it. I have time invested into that name, many years of smiles, tears, laughter, and joy. I have energy invested into that name, caring for him as a child, making sure he had food and clothing, driving him to Sunday school, and cheering at ballgames. My heart is invested in that name through a history of Christmas mornings and birthdays, family meals and vacations, days that seemed filled with love and long nights of prayer. The name Braden is precious to this mother’s heart.
So I sat that day with my eyes on the sky, awestruck by the thought of the God I was addressing so casually. The Jewish people say that God’s Name is too Holy to be spoken and refer to Him as Ha’Shem (The Name) or Adonai. What Name can I use to address my God that is hallowed, sanctified in my experience, when I speak to Him?
He is not some idol on a shelf to be referred to as a “god”. He is so much more than that. I have time and energy invested into this relationship with Him. My emotions and memories are tied up in Him. I have a history with Him that is deep and rich. It is filled with Sunday morning church services and children’s bible classes. It is laced with years of studying the Word and nights lying on my face in the secret place with His glory beaming over me. It is woven into the very fabric of who I have become, every heart beat keeping time to eternity’s drum, every borrowed breath a whisper of worship. What Name is deep enough to hold the flood of Who I have known Him to be?
To Hagar, the despised and disposable slave girl running from an unfair situation, He was El Roi, the God Who Sees her. To Abraham, his heart breaking as he held a knife to Isaac’s throat, He was Jehovah Jireh, the God Who provides a substitutionary sacrifice. To the Israelite children, leaving the familiar sands of Egypt and facing an unknown journey, He was Jehovah Rapha, the Healer Who kept them year after year in the wilderness. To Moses, standing over the battlefield with arms that felt like lead, He was Jehovah Nissi, The Banner that waved as a victory ensign over the soldiers waging war in the valley. To Gideon, filled with fear after standing before God, He was Jehovah Shalom, peace. To David, heart pounding as he raced toward Goliath’s threats of death, He was Jehovah Rohi, the Shepherd Who protected and guided his steps.
But Who is He to me? I can surely agree with these ancient men and women. He is the God Who sees me (and knows me but loves me anyway). He is the God Who has provided for my needs in miraculous ways. He is the God Who heals me, Who brings me victory, Who is my peace. He is the Shepherd Whom I have learned to trust with my life. I have a history that can testify that He is all these things and more. Perhaps the truth is that no single name is sufficient to hold the wealth of Who He is and has been in my life. He transcends my bankrupt vocabulary. He is Who He said He was, I AM.
I will confess and praise You [O God] with my whole heart; before the gods will I sing praises to You. Psalms 138:1
Man has always searched for someone or something bigger than himself to add meaning and significance to his life. We were made for divine connection from the moment that God bent over the clay form of Adam to breathe His own spark of life into him. We were made for God, and that desire has worked its way out even when there has been a vaccuum of knowledge of Who He really is.
The history of civilization is peppered with gods that men have made and served with religious exercises, sacrifices, and wars. A god is defined as a higher power, someone or something that has great power, strength, knowledge, and that can affect nature and the lives of people. A man’s god has the ability to control his reality and requires worship in the form of the attention, devotion, and respect of the man who serves it. Years ago, ancient people worshiped gods of rain, harvest, and fertility. They fell down in obeisance to the moon, the sun, stars, statues, and icons. Fear of death, famine, or misfortune caused men to serve what they thought were gods that could make things happen in their lives either for good or evil.
Can I be real with you? I don’t know a lot of people who have idols erected in their backyards these days. That search for something or someone who can add relevance to their lives has shifted to a more subtle form of worship. Today, people give their attention and devotion to other things like careers, political ideologies, and possessions. Others even worship themselves, striving to gratify their desires and seeking pleasure as the highest good. These are the things that people think will make their life better or easier. They pour out their time and energy to serve these gods. All these “little g” gods are exalted in our society through media and easy availability. But at the end of the day, that is all they are–“little g” gods. They will have no value to a man when he stands on the edge of a grave and stares into eternity.
I have lived too long on planet earth to lightly give away my affections and energy to serve a lesser god. I must serve a God Who truly deserves my worship. In my Bible, I read about One Who speaks and creates worlds, spinning them into a cosmic dance as they whirl around suns. He garnishes the heavens with His breath, and His lips drop life into whatever words He utters. Winds obey Him and storms bow before Him. He offers no empty promises, but when I call to Him, He thunders answers that rock my life. He is intimately acquainted with me, knowing even my deepest thoughts, and He loves me anyway. He has sparked new life in my spirit, delivered me from the darkness of depression, healed my emotions and my body, and wrote His love into every corner of my life. And when I step through the door of this life into forever, His hand will be outstretched as He welcomes me to draw close. He is my God.
I choose to stand in the face of every “little g” god that men bow before and declare His Name and His goodness boldly. I refuse to live for anything less than Him. Before the gods, I will sing praises to my God alone. I choose DELIBERATE PRAISE!
Pray with me?
Father, we stand in awe of Who You are! We delight to spend our lives pouring out worship before You. Give us boldness to stand firmly and declare Your greatness and love in a society that does not always want to listen. We will confess and praise You with our whole heart; before the gods will we sing praises to You.
When I was a girl living in the mountains of Kentucky, many warm sunny days were spent playing in the creek by my cousin’s house. We waded the shallow water and splashed each other until we were soaked, and spent lazy afternoons trying to scoop up minnows gliding through the clear stream. Most days, my older cousin tried hard to ignore the giggling girls playing by the waters edge, but I remember the day he took us on an adventure. We followed the stream past the house and garden, walking through tall grass and briars along the mountain. He took us all the way to the place where the clear cold water worked its way out of a rocky ledge, running over the wet stones and into the streambed. We had found the spring that fed the little creek.
A water spring may not look very powerful. The one that we found that day was small and hidden in the lush greenery of the mountainside, but it had enough of a flow that it kept the little stream supplied in the driest of seasons. It created a reliable source of moisture for the insects, frogs, and minnows that were found there. It provided a water source for the graceful deer that came at dawn for a cool drink. And yes, it even provided a place for two little girls to splash and play on warm days.
A spring is the place where groundwater pushes its way through the earth’s surface. It comes from a greater reservoir that is hidden from sight, but powerful and dynamic nonetheless. The water that flows from underground carries minerals from the soil through which it travels. The reality is that the small stream we played in was connected to large flowing waters that were deeper than we could imagine.
Forgive the science lesson, but I needed it. I needed to lay the groundwork for the psalmist to speak into my spiritual life. You see, there are times in the last few years that it has felt like I was walking on dry ground baked hard by the burning heat of adversity. There have been seasons that the blasting accusation of the enemy has declared that I am a hopeless mess with no future ahead. There are moments when disappointment has drained the faith from my soul until I was empty. Life can be hard–but when it is, I just need to lift up my eyes to heaven and declare, ALL MY SPRINGS ARE IN YOU, OH GOD!
I need to remember that I am connected to a hidden Source that supplies what I am unable to produce on my own. What flows into and through my life comes from the greater One that sits high and lifted up above every circumstance I will ever face. I do not belong in dry places where the devil whispers depression and darkness over me. I am connected to a massive reservoir of Living Water that the Lord has promised to those who come to Him.
The spring of my JOY is in God! David wrote that in God’s presence is fullness of joy! (Psalms 16:11) Joy is not dependent on the changing landscape of this world’s pleasures. It is not found in the safe convenience of human wisdom. It comes from God’s presence and pushes its way through the rockiest paths on which I find myself.
The spring of my HOPE is in God! He is a God of Hope! (Romans 15:3) Hope is not mere wishful thinking. It is a powerful spiritual force connected to faith and originating in what God has revealed about Himself. The God Who protected Noah in the storm can be trusted to take care of me when I find myself caught up in a tempest. The Lord Who multiplied fish and loaves to feed hungry crowds by the sea of Galilee will make sure that I have all I need in my life. Because of Who He is, I have hope. It flows from Him and works its way through my days.
The spring of my PEACE and WHOLENESS is in God! He is the God Who heals, delivers, upholds, and defends. If He is on my side, what do I have to fear? If I find myself on the front lines of spiritual warfare, I do not have to cower in fear. The spring of STRENGTH in my life is in Him, the God Who never grows weary. I will never exhaust the reservoirs of His power and ability!
Can I be bold enough to ask, what is it that you need? Love? Direction? Healing? Let me tell you the secret that has framed my life. Whatever I need in my life, my springs are in God! He will never let me down.
Will you pray with me?
Father, our springs are in You. Forgive us for times that we have looked in polluted cisterns trying to meet the needs only you can truly satisfy. We declare that You are our Source! We worship in amazement at the wonder of YOU!
