Unsatisfied By Average

The Musings of a Stubborn Believer

Author: Seán (page 5 of 31)

Words With the Father

That moment when the endless empty makes you realize how small you are, how big the world is, (much less the universe.) and how unreasonably kind God is for still having eyes for me.

“Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,’
even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!
If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you.

Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts!
And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!”

(Psalms 139:7-12, 17-18, 23-24. ESV)

Two Secrets

“We fill our lives with what we love most.”

I was recently asked how it is a life comes to be full of God.
Well I am no expert. But I do have this confidence.
I have an insatiable appetite for holy joy, adamant hopefulness, and unshakable confidence. And I know where these come from.
So, this is my defense.

– – –
Failure is no stranger to me. And there is altogether too much in my soul that competes for God’s place. 
But this I can say: with ever passing day I want less of the world, and more of Christ. 
And this transformation is not hard work, it is a simple gift, which He bestows to all who long to love Him first. 
I will tell you two secrets though– Two secrets that I am learning form the basis of every success I have ever attained. And two things that certainly involve consistent and tenacious effort. 
1. Love does the footwork. God does the rest. I make the room.
The heart will follow what it loves. Love God, and following Him is no struggle. Love the world, and you will forever have to fight to give God anything.
Good news: We were wired to love God. There’s no complicated formula.
Bad news: We’re prone to re-wiring. And the world is only too eager to help. Pleasure, convenience, compromise, popularity, lust, excitement, even friends?… These glitter like gold because they parade as substitutes for God. And we too often fall for it.

In order to learn to love God, God must live in the heart. We come to love best what we hold closest. (No, it’s true. We’re duped into holding close what is actually entirely unlovely, and  so come to love our worst enemy best of all.) The reciprocal is also true.

So, the thing to remember is that I only have one heart to give away. I can’t sprinkle God on top of pleasure. Guilty pleasure gets a foothold by kicking God out. I give God a foothold by kicking guilty pleasure out. (And that’s work.)
2. My happiness is proportional to the abandon with which I relinquish my right to myself.
This is undiluted joy. It matters very little how much effort it requires. 
So I repeatedly relinquish my “right” to myself.
That is, my right to direct my own steps, seek my own pleasure, pursue my own glory, fulfill my own dreams…
 
Because I’ve proven to myself (by repeated failure) that choosing pleasure over principle never, never, never, never leads to happiness in the end. 
And I’m thoroughly tired of being disappointed. 
Now when faced with a choice, I am gently reminded that I have given myself to the Almighty, and that whether or not I understand Him, I can draw contentment from allegiance. 
Then, I no longer sit there forever begging for power. (I used to.) I get up and go. Because He’s already given us enough power to actuate obedience. And He never gives again power we already possess. 
Thus He adds another block to the empire He’s building in the souls of His servants, and I’m perfectly satisfied.
So satisfied, that I become daily more likely to chose Him over any substitute.
And as long as I keep allowing Him to crowd out of my life everything unlike Himself, I get happier. 
The moment I refuse Him, He is crowded off His rightful throne, and I’m at the mercy of a selfish rottenness that has power only because I give it such.
Which power all the host of heroes on white horses defies.

For what it’s worth… I’m sticking with them. 

Believing is Everything?

Minnows flee the froth while they tumble out of the boats and splash ashore, this exuberant rabble.
They’ve been looking for the miracle worker that baked 25,000 barley loaves (not including what wife and kids ate) without an oven yesterday, and they’ve just found Him.

He doesn’t answer their first question at all, rather gently reminds them what alone is really worth pursuing.

“Labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life, which the Son of man shall give unto you.”

(John 6:27 KJV)

Whether or not they actually understand what He’s saying, they are plainly intrigued. So they ask another question. The answer to which has me positively intrigued…

“Then said they unto him, What shall we do, that we might work the works of God? Jesus answered and said unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe…”

(John 6:28-29 KJV emphasis added)

Belief changes everything.

Because if Christ really came, then God is really good, and self-love is really a lie, and sin is really a destroyer, and who wants to die anyway?

I have some news for you.
Christ came. (Matchless condescension.)
And He comes again, every time a dark heart opens its door. (Again, matchless condescension.)
What more proof do we need of His benevolence?

And if He is benevolent, then where’s the controversy?

Believing is everything.

We only ever hesitate to serve a God whose character we question.

Jesus Knows

I wonder if you, like me, have ever stood in the doorway of the tabernacle* and felt like you were totally out of place there…

–  –  –  –
I stand on the threshold. This is God’s home. And it’s a place that feels as though it has been at times more familiar to me than it is at this moment. 
His eyes hold only love. 
My head is bowed though, because my mind cradles memories fresh of petty wanderings I’d like to forget.
“Welcome home.”
“Thank You, Sir.
       
But— [with trembling, and wonder, and a bit of incredulity, and still a bowed head] 
Does Your Lordship know what it feels like to be a betrayer and a murderer?”
I know. The inane questions I ask sometimes.
He just looks at me, lets me stand there a minute. And His face is kind, and grave, and silent. But suddenly His Spirit leads me back to truth 2,000 years old. I hear, I remember. I look up at His face. 
“Yes, actually… I died carrying the sins of Judas too.”

Oh. That’s right. (and so horribly wrong.)

You Who knew no sin, accepted the sin of the betrayer. 
And it killed You, so I could live.

And this is why you can welcome me home.
Let me never hesitate.
Jesus knows. 
*metaphorically speaking, you understand.

No Substitute

I’m as sure as the sunrise. This is the secret…

I stand at my front door and watch Africa stir, listen to the jungle morning. But my thoughts are far away. I cry and He answers. And though we better our acquaintance daily, most days He still catches me off guard. And some days when I’m only half done with my rant he silences me with one word, burned in silence across the wall of my soul.

“… And say I not well that I am ‘a Samaritan’?
Say I not well that Thou deservest more and better?–“

“Say I not well that there is only one of you in the world, and in My heart you’re irreplaceable?”

There is one thing that binds me to the cross. One thing that is to be thanked for any progress, any strength, any accomplishment.
And that one thing is not my commitment, my abandonment, my faith, my hope, my experience, my choice, my will, my power, or my surrender.

It is the mercy of Christ.

The love that doesn’t want “more and better” as a substitute for broken me.

The Stuff of the Brave

Consumed as I’ve been of late with strategies to arm next generation’s young heroes with this generation’s arsenal of lessons learned, I think I’m justified in my excitement.

Aren’t you? Maybe you didn’t read what I read this morning.

…About the way stone walls can either make us slaves, or make us like themselves. Invincible.

“It is written of Joseph in the dungeon that ‘the iron entered into his soul.'” – (Streams in the Desert, September 8)

The let us neither bemoan the ruggedness of the way, nor the apparent strength of the enemy.

Let us rather gather always strength from our surroundings. And let the battlements we break through become in us the stuff of steel that the brave men and women of the cross are made of.

We can’t lose.

Plenty Full

I esteem that audacity which leads brave men to “crave the fire’s embrace,” if only through it they might come to know God…

(For it is true that a day of hardship imparts more strength to the soul than a month of sunshine.)

But after today, I’ve had a change of mind as concerns just how men (and women) should pursue the treasure imparted by tears. Once, that is, faith has made them steel enough to do so.

Pray not for pain or hardship.
The world is plenty full of both.

Pray you’ll have the heart to suffer with another’s.

When their hardship becomes my pain, then God can heal the both of us.

We Fly

We fly.
To old friends, and new lands.
We leave. People we love. Life in progress…
But only for a few weeks.

Mean time, for those we leave, and for where we’re headed, we claim the same assurance.

“The path where God leads the way may lie through the desert or the sea, but it is a safe path.” (PP 290)

Pray us on our way!

Europe and Africa, here we come.

Believe the Impossible?

“Who against hope believed in hope, that he might become the father of many nations. . . He staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief; but was strong in faith, giving glory to God.”* 

See, that’s the essence of triumphant faith to me. And the reason why Abraham received the impossible.

Because he believed the impossible. 
Hope against hope.

You’ve heard perhaps that “God will be everything we let Him be…”?

Maybe God can’t work what’s impossible, because I only believe what’s reasonable.

*see Romans 4

Sleeping Before Gethsemane

In my mind I think that nothing would have persuaded me to sleep that night…
I should think I would have been too afraid. 
They watched Him, walked with Him. He, having just given what He knew to be His last words– His last will and testament. Now He is gripped by a sadness such as they have never seen before. The Healer stumbles and sways into the garden, and more than once they have to hold Him up so He does not topple to the cold ground. 
Can you enter in to just how frightening that must have been?
Cold night; stricken Savior. 
He, who’d never stumbled? Not once?
Perhaps the 8 of them were glad to be left near the gate of the garden. Maybe sleep would erase all memory of this dread they could not understand? 
I don’t know, I wasn’t there.
What I do know is, they slept. 
The three closest ones, they followed Him till He told them to stay. But did anybody look unreservedly into His face? Did anyone dare ask why He was sorrowful unto death? Did no one cling to Him and insist He share the burden that was crushing out His life? Did any say “I’ll watch with you. I’ll go with you. Wherever. Only entreat me not to leave You…”
Or with pounding hearts did they pray, for a few minutes, that it would just go away…
I wasn’t there. 
But these two things I know: they neglected to share (or shrank from sharing) His heart because its burdens were unknown, awkward and fearful. 
And when the moment of truth burst upon them, they scattered.
Might I venture to say that had they stopped and just looked into His face, accepted the dreadful reality written there in bloody sweat, and sought to share its grief, 
they would have read there the truth about the moments to come? 
Or at least, they would not have been shocked by them. 
Jesus knew. 

I wonder: Could not they have known a little too?
In my mind I think that nothing would have persuaded me to sleep that night… 
I should have been too afraid. 
But then, what of His burdens in the overflowing eyes of this people His flesh and blood? His bride?
Don’t I sometimes neglect to share them, or shrink from them because they are fearful, awkward, unknown?
Do I ever pray, rather than that I might share them, that they might just go away?
Oh Jesus… Perhaps I would have slept too? 


PC and post: Nathan Lee Westbrook



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