Wanted to tell y’all something this morning. I was in the full throes of adulthood, probably not far from middle-age, when it 1st began to occur to me that not all the harsh difficulties in my life were consequences of my past sins long turned-from. It’s a rough way to live,
thinking that every bit of your hardship and suffering you brought on yourself with your foolish faithless decisions. It can be overwhelming and demoralizing. I want you to know that I have found Jesus so merciful, both in my reaping a whirlwind I’d sown & in the suffering
that simply accompanies life on terrestrial ground strewn with thorn & thistle. I also want to remind you that you can sow something new. Something of the Spirit. For me, I really could not break out of the cycle of defeat until I could fully accept I’d been forgiven for my sins.
And, yes, sins. When we lose that word from our vocabulary, we lose our whole theology of the cross. I’m convinced one reason why we can’t find our joy is that we won’t acknowledge our sins and get on with God’s grace. Psalm 32:1 says happy is the one whose sins are forgiven.
A lot of us don’t seem very happy to me. I just want somebody who feels like there’s no getting past your past that there is mercy, there is forgiveness, there is grace at the foot of the cross. Jesus loved you all along. In his faithful hands and under his Lordship you have
a future unbridled from your past. God does not resent a single ounce of grace he’s ever poured out on any of us. The crying shame is in letting it be in vain. Live, sons & daughters of God, in the full consequences of Christ’s cross by faith, fully forgiven & made utterly clean.
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Been in 1 Chronicles the last few weeks in my morning readings. The book that begins with 9 long chapters of genealogies & what seem like endless records of unfamiliar names ends with one of the most spectacular prayers ever penned in Spirit ink on the sacred scroll. It’s David.
He’s an old man now, about to publicly pass the crown to his son, Solomon. He’d had it in his heart to build a temple for the Lord but the Lord chose Solomon for the gargantuan task. David worked tirelessly to gather materials for construction: stones, lumber, precious metals
& the like, all in enormous quantities. He has gathered a great assembly for a 2-fold purpose. 1st, to enlist their support of Solomon whom he tells them “is young & inexperienced” & facing a great task “because the building will not be built for a human but for the Lord God.”
He’s working it out. God, I mean. I’m starting to see specks of light here & there. Fragments that one day, I think, in His glorious presence, will come together with a thousand unseen pieces & bring life to rhyme & reason. After a cycle of years crying WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING??!
He will, you know. God will work it all out. We are too nearsighted to see it here but, O Known of God, we will see it there. All rhyme and reason that fled us in the dark night will come to light in the bright and beautiful smile of Jesus Christ.
“In him we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to the purpose of him who works all things according to the counsel of his will.”
Eph 1:11
WORKS ALL THINGS.
I pray this day God shines just enough light on a fragment of your life to...
Often asked how I make it. Hoping a 2-fold reply might help someone.
1) The Lord. This can’t go without saying. Crucial. Nobody gets a chance to speak to me before the Lord speaks to me each day through His word.
2) A handful of people who know how to love well.
It is the 2nd one I’d like to try briefly to analyze. When I say these people love well, I don’t mean that they have to wear themselves out building me up. Ick. Oftentimes they love well by just overlooking all the public drama and letting me get lost in their good conversations.
Other times they’ll let me express my exasperation & they’ll jump in there with me and commiserate. At times they will cry with me. Get mad for me. More often they will laugh with me. I say this because I think loving well involves all of these things. Knowing when to speak.
Been in Maryland for meetings this weekend. Rather than heading home to Houston, I’m flying to Austin to meet Keith to attend a wedding together of a good friend’s daughter. Since it fell on a work weekend, it was difficult to pull off. But, the thing is, there will be dancing.
We were juniors at Texas State at a fraternity-sorority mixer. He was president of his fraternity, I was president of my sorority. Music was loud, people partying pretty hard. Comes over to me. “Can I get you a beer?”
“No, thank you.” Walks away & thinks to himself, maybe she’s
too good for a beer. Lol. Walks back over. “Can I get you a daiquiri?”
“No, thank you.” Pauses. “Ok, a margarita.” I shake my head no then, seeing he needs an explanation, “I don’t drink.” (I was nothing at all if not a card carrying Southern Baptist.) Flummoxed, he walks away.
I’m wondering if it says anything at all when women theologians—academics—who’ve diligently studied the Scriptures, teach on women’s roles then have to leave social media because they know they’ll be torn to shreds by wolves. Not just disagreed with. Not just debated. Shredded.
I’m wondering if it says anything at all that people who shred them, slander them, do all they can to discredit them, label them and use them as object lessons so other women will see what will happen if they push back, never see their grave sinfulness.
I heard a very wise and insightful young woman say recently that there’s a particular cruelty that is reserved for women who rock the boat. Asked by the podcast host what she believed the explanation for such particularity might be and she answered, “Misogyny.”
When my dumb alarm goes off well before dawn, I so don’t want to get up. These words of David have pulled me out of the bed so many times.
“I will sing; I will sing praises.
Wake up, my soul!
Wake up, harp & lyre!
I will wake up the dawn.
I will praise you, Lord.”Ps.57:7b-9a.
Don’t you love how he’s telling himself to shake off the slumber & get up? “Wake up, my soul!” Then he tells his instruments to get-cracking. “Wake up, harp & lyre!” Then my favorite part. He determines to get up before daylight & wake up the dawn instead of dawn waking him up.
And we’re left with this spectacular image of the sleepy psalmist, hair awry, eyes still a bit glued together, rolling over, grabbing his harp, standing to his feet under the early morning stars & praising God like a song-alarm to the sun. And before long, the sun is up, awakened