Unsatisfied By Average

Page 7 of 32

Jesus Knows

September 27, 2013 / Seán / 9 Comments

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

September 11, 2013 / Seán / 9 Comments

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

September 8, 2013 / Seán / 3 Comments

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

September 6, 2013 / Seán / 17 Comments

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

August 11, 2013 / Seán / 12 Comments

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?

August 8, 2013 / Seán / 4 Comments

“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

August 6, 2013 / Seán / 2 Comments

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

God of the Open Door

August 3, 2013 / Seán / 1 Comment

Good morning world.

This one thought has me tingling this morning, so I’m here to shout from the [blog]top before I run out the door.

I’ve spent much of my week working the problem of addictions. (as is my business.)
One big, scary word, little scientific consensus within the mental health community when it comes to definitions and limitations.

And I’m not about to jump into the ring and argue what is and what isn’t.
Anyway, definitions have never made anyone free.

Here’s the word of the day.

“Behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it…”

The God creative and redemptive, merciful and authoritative, sacrificial and strong, fearful and wonderful, perfect and beautiful, righteous and wroth–

He’s the God of the Open Door.

If there were no other reason to serve Him, that one would be enough.
It’s enough for me.

Strong to Save [When God Goes to War] Part II

July 30, 2013 / Seán / 0 Comments

You know the story isn’t over.
It could be. I mean, wouldn’t it be enough if He swooped in as the Hero of every rescue mission, and picked up broken pieces again, and took them home to heal?
That’s already more than we deserve.

(read part 1 here.)

But that’s not the end of the story. Or the chapter.

He is the Hero of every rescue mission. And there’s a reason His exploits come first…

But keep reading till the end of the tale.

He saves the afflicted, simultaneously putting the adversary in his place.
And then!–

He lights a candle. A little flame of light atop a stick of wax strung out.
Fresh home from the smoke and dust of battle, He shares His life.
He puts in the soul a fire, out of Himself, a part of Himself, and with that fire comes all the power that is His. Power to live. Power to overcome. The same power that just sent hills and hoodlums scurrying.

And watch the servant. Watch the flame suddenly catch on, as if he was all oil inside. Watch him fly into the darkness, like an arrow himself. Burning as he goes, consumed, but . . . not consumed.

Watch him run right through the midst of the garrison of darkness, setting the place ablaze. Watch his enemies come to their senses, pick themselves up to follow hard in the trail of smoke. Watch him get to the end– the dead end. And just when the pursuers think they’ll have vengeance at last, watch him leap. Watch him sail over what should have been his death sentence. While his enemies remain, confined by their own fortifications.

Watch him stop on the far side, catch his breath, raise one hand to heaven and say:

“As for God, His way is perfect:
the word of the Lord is tried:
He is a buckler to all those that trust in Him.
For who is God, save the Lord?. . .

It is God that girdeth me with strength, and maketh my way perfect.
He maketh my feet like hinds’ feet. . .
He teacheth my hands to war, so that a bow of steel is broken by mine arms. . .

Thy right hand hath holden me up,
And thy gentleness hath made me great.
Thou has enlarged my steps under me, that my feet did not slip.

I have pursued mine enemies, and overtaken them:. . .
I have wounded them that they were not able to rise:
they are fallen under my feet.

For Thou has girded me with strength unto the battle. . .”

(Ps. 18:30-39, emphasis mine.)

How can it logically be said that even with unlimited access to unlimited power, we must accept the prospect of limited progress, and perpetual setbacks?

I don’t get that.

What I do get, is that when I am His, then I am strong.
And under no other circumstances.

Read part 1

Strong to Save [When God Goes to War] Part I

July 28, 2013 / Seán / 0 Comments

I have no tolerance for the idea that defeat must be regarded as at least occasionally inevitable. Absolutely none.

As if every third day or so the angels trade sides for an hour and evil somehow becomes omnipotent. Really?

I think it would be good if we all made it a habit to regularly review Psalm 18. To me it’s the ultimate drama of faltering servant, and faithful God. No wonder it’s one of my favorites…

But I guess you realize it requires more than the simple existence of Omnipotent God to keep me from falling… Well, herein lies that secret too. In the first four words of the chapter. The spark that heralds a storm of Divinity.–

“I will love Thee…”

I Will. My little part to play. So simple, so absolutely necessary. Whole sermon right here…
Love. Because love will move my heart, my head, and my hands. The way work won’t…
Thee. Because love is actually inevitable. You were wired for it. It’s not if, it’s who. And only this Master has life to give away…

In other words, I’m Yours. Head, heart, and whole.

And then do you see what happens?
Hear a few verses later when David bleeds out this distress of sorrows and death–

The servant cries, and the whole earth reels in the thunder from his chariot wheels.
Hills and rills run out of the way, because He is wroth.
Breath of life and creative Word come out of mouth and nose as smoke and fire.
His chariot is alive. An angel with wind for his wings.
He arrives at His war room –a secret pavilion carved out of darkness– in the midst of the earthquake.
Walks in under escort of raining fire and ice.

He stands in the midst of His council of war, utters words that cut atmospheres. More thunder…
And His speech gets the whole host moving.

Next thing you know, “his arrows,” the very best of His fighting force, they shoot out from the place, wreak havoc on the enemy.
Seemingly out of nowhere.
And when the scattering seems complete, He sends lightnings after them.

Then all at once the agenda, the fortifications, the vulnerabilities of the enemy are laid wide open.
And He calmly walks in and picks up His servant, and carries him out.

“With the merciful thou wilt shew thyself merciful;
with the upright man thou wilt shew thyself upright;
with the pure thou wilt shew thyself pure;
and with the froward thou wilt shew thyself froward.” Ps. 18:25, 26

I’m not making it up. That’s what the Book says.

I have no tolerance for the idea that defeat must be regarded as at least occasionally inevitable. Absolutely none.

Perhaps I must be regarded as at least occasionally (or much more often) failing to call for help, or surrendering my arms voluntarily…

(to be continued…)