"I have learned the secret of being content in every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength."
Philippians 4:12-13
I thank God he's blessed me with this secret. I don't know how he taught me or when, and I probably could not put it any better than the author above, but he's blessed me. Any time when all other circumstances tell me I ought to be broken down and beat up, he has given me strength.
But it's never quite that simple is it?
In reflecting on my spiritual growth, I could not help but to notice how content I could be at times. Truly being thankful for what God had blessed me with and serving him without complaint. The thing was, I got caught up in the thankfulness and obedience, and I forgot to ask for more. I filled my prayers with praise, repentance, and requests for others, but rarely for myself. In some sort of twisted humbleness, I chose to avoid "inconveniencing" God and sought after contentment.
I am really starting to think that's not what this passage is about. I am really starting to redefine what I should and should not be content with. Since I ought not to put my desires into things of this world, how could I want more than contentment? This world cannot truly give me "more" nor do I really want the "more" it claims to offer. Contentment then, living in plenty or want of the things of this world, is indeed a virtue.
Contentment with the things of God, however, is living in denial of what God offers us.
Has anyone reached the limits of God's blessings? Has God put a cap on how much he wants to give us? Is Jesus only willing to be our friend up until a point? Is God's influence in our life limited by us or him?
In this case, I don't believe contentment is a virtue. In this case, I pray for holy discontent. I pray that I do not stop asking for more. I pray that I never think I have enough of God. Every offer he's ever made has never been bound by the limits of this world. All the promises and all the gifts, distributed as he sees fit, and but do we really think we can exhaust him of what he desires to give?
God grant me joy at every point of this journey, but may I never be content with how far I have come.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
In Every Face I See
One thing God has really put on my heart is to try to see Him in each person I see. It's something I'm not very good at. I pass by a lot of people each day. I forget a lot of faces and I notice the clothes, the styles, the bodies, and the swagger. I've come to notice lots of interesting clothes, and the styles can sure catch my eye. I've even come to see the attitudes and the personalities people reflect in their walk. It can be fascinating just to discern as much as you can from something as simple as a stranger's walk.
What I haven't learned to do well is see their walk with God as they pass me by. I don't beat myself up over it. It's not a normal thing to do. It would be so presumptuous of me to sit on a bus and spiritually analyze someone I've never met. Maybe it's that fear that I'd be judging them that stops me. I never want to judge. Somehow I've connected in my head the idea that trying to look at people in a spiritual light is some form a prejudice.
No doubt that doubt and that risk persists even with the best of intentions. I barely have a clear view of my own spirituality, let alone trying to see it in those that pass me by.
But it's different somehow. I don't feel this calling is to spiritually gauge people so to speak.
It's a call to see that at their core they are spiritual people. It's a call to recognize that God knows that person, whether as an intimate father or a father longing after His distant child. God wants me to recognize that. To Him they matter just as much as me. He wants me to see they are living, with all the pains, joys, and complications that living entails. He wants me to see that they are dying, whether it be just a fading of time or a starving for lack of Him.
It makes me think of an oddly appropriate analogy. Some movie was done in clay animation, but a few shots were digitally created. Thing was, they need to digitally add the fingerprints to the computer models so they looked exactly like the clay models. Without that tiny detail, the computer images just were not convincing. People could tell they were not clay.
If I don't see God's fingerprints on each person I see I don't truly see them. Those images I have of each person I've randomly passed is incomplete without them. I've grown so accustomed to just walking by, never thinking twice, but never noticing the little details that make each person real.
That's just it. They're not real without Him. If I don't look at each person with my heart fully acknowledging God's presence in their lives, I look right through them. It would be judgmental of me not to see that.
What I haven't learned to do well is see their walk with God as they pass me by. I don't beat myself up over it. It's not a normal thing to do. It would be so presumptuous of me to sit on a bus and spiritually analyze someone I've never met. Maybe it's that fear that I'd be judging them that stops me. I never want to judge. Somehow I've connected in my head the idea that trying to look at people in a spiritual light is some form a prejudice.
No doubt that doubt and that risk persists even with the best of intentions. I barely have a clear view of my own spirituality, let alone trying to see it in those that pass me by.
But it's different somehow. I don't feel this calling is to spiritually gauge people so to speak.
It's a call to see that at their core they are spiritual people. It's a call to recognize that God knows that person, whether as an intimate father or a father longing after His distant child. God wants me to recognize that. To Him they matter just as much as me. He wants me to see they are living, with all the pains, joys, and complications that living entails. He wants me to see that they are dying, whether it be just a fading of time or a starving for lack of Him.
It makes me think of an oddly appropriate analogy. Some movie was done in clay animation, but a few shots were digitally created. Thing was, they need to digitally add the fingerprints to the computer models so they looked exactly like the clay models. Without that tiny detail, the computer images just were not convincing. People could tell they were not clay.
If I don't see God's fingerprints on each person I see I don't truly see them. Those images I have of each person I've randomly passed is incomplete without them. I've grown so accustomed to just walking by, never thinking twice, but never noticing the little details that make each person real.
That's just it. They're not real without Him. If I don't look at each person with my heart fully acknowledging God's presence in their lives, I look right through them. It would be judgmental of me not to see that.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
mio devo 2
Deuteronomy 33:26-29
After undergoing so much stress, so much pain, our bodies reach a point where they are on the verge of breaking down, and it becomes so hard to really see God's goodness in our lives. We've all had those times; moments when our refuge doesn't seem to keep out every arrow and every chilling breeze. Moments when we find ourselves waiting for our help from heaven to arrive. Moments when we can’t help but to ask where our shield and helper has gone off to.
After experiencing one of the toughest days of my life and seeing so many others dear to me carrying heavy burdens, I looked back to this passage. It contains some of Moses’ last words to the Israelites, and to this "warped and crooked generation" he blesses them and affirms them of God's goodness. More often than not, we can turn to a passage such as this and see the familiar promises of protection and salvation that, in probably the greatest tragedy of many life-long Christians, we have become desensitized to.
God has something more to say.
He opened up my eyes to something very important. Amidst all the promises of goodness and faithfulness, He left instructions:
“He will drive out your enemies before you, saying, ‘Destroy him!’”
“Your enemies will cower before you, and you will trample down their high places.”
When evil occupies our lives and wages war over our souls, God commands us to be the ones to destroy and trample it.
Just as Moses spoke to the nation of Israel then, God speaks to our Christian community today. When evil is raging amidst the lives of our loved ones, God will equip us to fight it out, but we must fight the battle. God will receive the glory for delivering our enemies into our hands, but that cannot be done if we do not go to war against them.
Fight for your brothers and sisters. Each one of us endures great pain, and some are deeply entrenched and losing hope. God has already given us all we need to help them. He gave us mouths, so encourage each other! He gave us arms, so hug each other! He gave us time, spend it with each other! He gave us hearts, so let them break for each other! He gave us our lives, die for each other! In this way we can destroy the sorrow that weighs so heavily on our souls. We know when our brothers and sisters are in pain, and it’s at those moments when we must act.
God’s goodness only fails to enter someone’s life when someone else doesn’t love them the way God commands them to. He is our shield and helper and glorious sword, but we must still be that arm that wields it.
God Bless
Daniel
After undergoing so much stress, so much pain, our bodies reach a point where they are on the verge of breaking down, and it becomes so hard to really see God's goodness in our lives. We've all had those times; moments when our refuge doesn't seem to keep out every arrow and every chilling breeze. Moments when we find ourselves waiting for our help from heaven to arrive. Moments when we can’t help but to ask where our shield and helper has gone off to.
After experiencing one of the toughest days of my life and seeing so many others dear to me carrying heavy burdens, I looked back to this passage. It contains some of Moses’ last words to the Israelites, and to this "warped and crooked generation" he blesses them and affirms them of God's goodness. More often than not, we can turn to a passage such as this and see the familiar promises of protection and salvation that, in probably the greatest tragedy of many life-long Christians, we have become desensitized to.
God has something more to say.
He opened up my eyes to something very important. Amidst all the promises of goodness and faithfulness, He left instructions:
“He will drive out your enemies before you, saying, ‘Destroy him!’”
“Your enemies will cower before you, and you will trample down their high places.”
When evil occupies our lives and wages war over our souls, God commands us to be the ones to destroy and trample it.
Just as Moses spoke to the nation of Israel then, God speaks to our Christian community today. When evil is raging amidst the lives of our loved ones, God will equip us to fight it out, but we must fight the battle. God will receive the glory for delivering our enemies into our hands, but that cannot be done if we do not go to war against them.
Fight for your brothers and sisters. Each one of us endures great pain, and some are deeply entrenched and losing hope. God has already given us all we need to help them. He gave us mouths, so encourage each other! He gave us arms, so hug each other! He gave us time, spend it with each other! He gave us hearts, so let them break for each other! He gave us our lives, die for each other! In this way we can destroy the sorrow that weighs so heavily on our souls. We know when our brothers and sisters are in pain, and it’s at those moments when we must act.
God’s goodness only fails to enter someone’s life when someone else doesn’t love them the way God commands them to. He is our shield and helper and glorious sword, but we must still be that arm that wields it.
God Bless
Daniel
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
mio devo 1
"Jesus did not answer a word" - Matthew 15:23
Matthew 15:21-28
Sometimes the hardest part is waiting for an answer. Sometimes the deepest pains are those that simply come from silence. We spend much of our spiritual lives waiting on God, begging for an answer and pleading for help. The woman in this story knew what Jesus could do. She may not have understood the salvation that He offered, but as a mother with a child in suffering, a man who was working real and tangible miracles right where she lived was an answered prayer.
So as she called out to Jesus, the loving God made flesh, He did the same thing he always does: something that doesn't make sense. The one sent to heal the sick was ignoring the cries of the needy. Not only that, she was persistent to the point that the disciples wished to send her away (verse 23). To dig it even deeper, Jesus' next two replies can reap even more confusion. He goes so far as to equate the Canaanite woman to a dog!! Jesus is basically saying that you are not worthy of my healing, and how much more demoralizing can it be to hear that from Him?
Of course, not is all as it seems. After the woman still persists, even after all that waiting and denial, her daughter is healed because of her great faith.
Not because she was worthy.
Not because she was Jewish and was God's people he was sent to save.
Because of her faith.
In that perspective, we see what Jesus was getting at with all this; he was testing her faith. He first kept silent, then rejected her, then rejected her again, and only after all that did the king of mercy answer her pleas. He knew how far she was willing to go to save her daughter. He knew he was going to heal that girl. He knew that this woman's immense faith would someday be a testament to all of us who wait for an answer from above.
I relate. I want answers from God, but I'm getting silence. I want direction, comfort, affirmation, instructions, healing, wisdom, passion, and I want them now. So often though, my cries are met with a similar response, but just as in this story, Jesus is just waiting.
I can't help but to try to imagine the agony in Jesus' heart as he waits. The pain it brings him to have to push this woman and us just a little bit further. He knows it's the best thing for us; to sharpen our faith and strengthen our resolve, but in His heart he is longing for the joyous moment of healing He has planned from the beginning.
Faith - firm belief in something for which there is no proof
When there seems to be little chance of aid, that is when our faith is strongest. In the moments of God's silence we can glorify Him the most.
Matthew 15:21-28
Sometimes the hardest part is waiting for an answer. Sometimes the deepest pains are those that simply come from silence. We spend much of our spiritual lives waiting on God, begging for an answer and pleading for help. The woman in this story knew what Jesus could do. She may not have understood the salvation that He offered, but as a mother with a child in suffering, a man who was working real and tangible miracles right where she lived was an answered prayer.
So as she called out to Jesus, the loving God made flesh, He did the same thing he always does: something that doesn't make sense. The one sent to heal the sick was ignoring the cries of the needy. Not only that, she was persistent to the point that the disciples wished to send her away (verse 23). To dig it even deeper, Jesus' next two replies can reap even more confusion. He goes so far as to equate the Canaanite woman to a dog!! Jesus is basically saying that you are not worthy of my healing, and how much more demoralizing can it be to hear that from Him?
Of course, not is all as it seems. After the woman still persists, even after all that waiting and denial, her daughter is healed because of her great faith.
Not because she was worthy.
Not because she was Jewish and was God's people he was sent to save.
Because of her faith.
In that perspective, we see what Jesus was getting at with all this; he was testing her faith. He first kept silent, then rejected her, then rejected her again, and only after all that did the king of mercy answer her pleas. He knew how far she was willing to go to save her daughter. He knew he was going to heal that girl. He knew that this woman's immense faith would someday be a testament to all of us who wait for an answer from above.
I relate. I want answers from God, but I'm getting silence. I want direction, comfort, affirmation, instructions, healing, wisdom, passion, and I want them now. So often though, my cries are met with a similar response, but just as in this story, Jesus is just waiting.
I can't help but to try to imagine the agony in Jesus' heart as he waits. The pain it brings him to have to push this woman and us just a little bit further. He knows it's the best thing for us; to sharpen our faith and strengthen our resolve, but in His heart he is longing for the joyous moment of healing He has planned from the beginning.
Faith - firm belief in something for which there is no proof
When there seems to be little chance of aid, that is when our faith is strongest. In the moments of God's silence we can glorify Him the most.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Coarse Wood
Matthew 11:28-30
I've never carried a yoke over my shoulders before. It's a sensation that is probably foreign to many of us, nor do I imagine that any of us foresee such an experience in the future. Nonetheless, we carry a yoke all our lives. We even get a choice: the world's yoke or God's.
The image I have of the world's yoke is something reminiscent of Sisyphus. The load over our shoulders drags a boulder behind. The trail to march is steep, and the going is slow. As the boulder is dragged along it picks up debris, adding to it's mass with every step. At the top of this path is a peak that suddenly drops. There is no plateau to rest on, only a slope over which the boulder will tumble back down.
The image I have of God's yoke is something reminiscent of Calvary. The load over our shoulder is a heavy cross of course wood. The trail to march is steep, and the going is slow. As the cross is dragged along, it's dropped every now and then, forcing the bearer to raise it up once more on their shoulder. At the top of this path is a plateau where we may find rest. Millions of crosses dot the horizon from this view, and instead of millions of different people hung from them, there is only one person, lifted up a million times over for each cross carried up that hill.
It gives me shivers, and it gives me a thought:
Coarse wood is the most beautiful sensation in all the world.
As I sit and contemplate the shear measure of love and forgiveness in the crucifixion, I am in awe of the beauty in every element of it all, including the cross, the yoke we are called to bear. I pray that every time I put my hand on coarse wood I would be marveled at the touch; a reminder of a love that has no equal.
Coarse wood is the most beautiful sensation in all the world.
In Christ,
Daniel
I've never carried a yoke over my shoulders before. It's a sensation that is probably foreign to many of us, nor do I imagine that any of us foresee such an experience in the future. Nonetheless, we carry a yoke all our lives. We even get a choice: the world's yoke or God's.
The image I have of the world's yoke is something reminiscent of Sisyphus. The load over our shoulders drags a boulder behind. The trail to march is steep, and the going is slow. As the boulder is dragged along it picks up debris, adding to it's mass with every step. At the top of this path is a peak that suddenly drops. There is no plateau to rest on, only a slope over which the boulder will tumble back down.
The image I have of God's yoke is something reminiscent of Calvary. The load over our shoulder is a heavy cross of course wood. The trail to march is steep, and the going is slow. As the cross is dragged along, it's dropped every now and then, forcing the bearer to raise it up once more on their shoulder. At the top of this path is a plateau where we may find rest. Millions of crosses dot the horizon from this view, and instead of millions of different people hung from them, there is only one person, lifted up a million times over for each cross carried up that hill.
It gives me shivers, and it gives me a thought:
Coarse wood is the most beautiful sensation in all the world.
As I sit and contemplate the shear measure of love and forgiveness in the crucifixion, I am in awe of the beauty in every element of it all, including the cross, the yoke we are called to bear. I pray that every time I put my hand on coarse wood I would be marveled at the touch; a reminder of a love that has no equal.
Coarse wood is the most beautiful sensation in all the world.
In Christ,
Daniel
Friday, January 25, 2008
Rain
I love the rain. I really do. I think it's one of the most wonderful things God can use to accent a day. There's a giddy sort of joy that wells up inside of me, and as I walk through it, I can't help but to smile. I remember in high school, me and a few friends would just stand in the rain. While everyone was huddled indoors, we would just stand there, with no umbrellas, smiling to each other, as if we had this great little secret that no one else understood.
Rain got a bad rep somehow. People step in puddles, get wet and get perturbed. You won't find a sad moment or funeral scene in a movie that isn't accompanied by the ever convenient rainstorm. This image we've come to associate as tears falling from the sky as the heavenly hosts weep. Rain becomes that gloomy symbol for all things depressing and down right emo.
That's not the rain I know. The rain I know is a blessing. The rain I know is a gift. It seems all over-dramatic, I know, especially to anyone who harbors animosity towards rain. But that's how I feel.
Ever notice how everything is cleaner after a rain? The air tastes fresher and you can see further out into the horizon. The leaves on the trees just shine, and the greens that adorn each bit of flora is that much more vibrant. The sun shines clearer, and the blue of the sky is deeper and more... well blue! It's as if God touches up creation every now and then, and in those times when you don't notice it's beauty as much, you're given the treat of rediscovering something wonderful.
Best of all, the rain changes me. I always watch the clouds recede feeling better, and closer to God. Just as in a mass when a priest would sprinkle the congregation with holy water, I imagine as if God Himself is sending out His holy water over me. As if in a baptism, I imagine the rain falling on my head, my heart, and my soul. It washes away my sin and shortcomings. It consecrates my life once more for God.
The rain becomes God's way of reminding me, "I have forgiven you because I love you, now go out to love as I did."
In Christ,
Daniel
Rain got a bad rep somehow. People step in puddles, get wet and get perturbed. You won't find a sad moment or funeral scene in a movie that isn't accompanied by the ever convenient rainstorm. This image we've come to associate as tears falling from the sky as the heavenly hosts weep. Rain becomes that gloomy symbol for all things depressing and down right emo.
That's not the rain I know. The rain I know is a blessing. The rain I know is a gift. It seems all over-dramatic, I know, especially to anyone who harbors animosity towards rain. But that's how I feel.
Ever notice how everything is cleaner after a rain? The air tastes fresher and you can see further out into the horizon. The leaves on the trees just shine, and the greens that adorn each bit of flora is that much more vibrant. The sun shines clearer, and the blue of the sky is deeper and more... well blue! It's as if God touches up creation every now and then, and in those times when you don't notice it's beauty as much, you're given the treat of rediscovering something wonderful.
Best of all, the rain changes me. I always watch the clouds recede feeling better, and closer to God. Just as in a mass when a priest would sprinkle the congregation with holy water, I imagine as if God Himself is sending out His holy water over me. As if in a baptism, I imagine the rain falling on my head, my heart, and my soul. It washes away my sin and shortcomings. It consecrates my life once more for God.
The rain becomes God's way of reminding me, "I have forgiven you because I love you, now go out to love as I did."
In Christ,
Daniel
Thursday, January 17, 2008
By Our Love
Tonight was another night of conviction.
I wish to express, above all other virtues, love to those around me. To love my brothers and sisters as Christ loved me.
So to hear once more the various thoughts most people have at the word 'Christian', it became another night of conviction. After being reminded of all the popular perceptions and common experiences, it became another night of conviction.
I paused to think, is there something I'm missing? Is it more than just hypocrites carrying false labels of faith? Of all the genuine, loving followers of Christ has that not been enough to make an impact on all these negative views?
When we live out our love to our neighbors, could it be they just don't make the connection to Jesus?
I wonder, how often the unusual kindness or love or generosity of a Christian is just attributed to the Christian, and not to Christ. Amidst a humanist society where we expect man alone to triumph in life without the interference of a transcendental being, how often does God's work get mistaken for man's victory of independence without God?
A woman gives a homeless man a meal, and a passerby says to themselves, "My what a virtuous woman!" Which is a fine statement on it's own, but unfortunately denies any possibility of another source of that virtue other than the work of her own will!
They will know we are Christians by our love.
When we are surrounded by a world view that denies the possibility of God, how could they see the love that comes from Him?
It's something I"m still struggling with. I don't want to walk around all day wearing a shirt that says, "I'm only nice to you because of Jesus". That's not really the best way of saying it.
I believe God is the source of all good things. Whenever I do anything nice, it was not of my own work. Also, if I ever see a non-Christian doing good work, I rejoice that God is doing good things through people who may not even realize it.
It makes me think though, that if someone where to truly know we are Christians by our love, our love would have to be so out of the ordinary, so unlike any human love, that people could not possibly confuse it with that of just some nice guy.
As much as I love nice guys.
It does however, set the bar pretty high on our definition of what it means to love one another.
Yours In Christ,
Just Another Jesus Freak
I wish to express, above all other virtues, love to those around me. To love my brothers and sisters as Christ loved me.
So to hear once more the various thoughts most people have at the word 'Christian', it became another night of conviction. After being reminded of all the popular perceptions and common experiences, it became another night of conviction.
I paused to think, is there something I'm missing? Is it more than just hypocrites carrying false labels of faith? Of all the genuine, loving followers of Christ has that not been enough to make an impact on all these negative views?
When we live out our love to our neighbors, could it be they just don't make the connection to Jesus?
I wonder, how often the unusual kindness or love or generosity of a Christian is just attributed to the Christian, and not to Christ. Amidst a humanist society where we expect man alone to triumph in life without the interference of a transcendental being, how often does God's work get mistaken for man's victory of independence without God?
A woman gives a homeless man a meal, and a passerby says to themselves, "My what a virtuous woman!" Which is a fine statement on it's own, but unfortunately denies any possibility of another source of that virtue other than the work of her own will!
They will know we are Christians by our love.
When we are surrounded by a world view that denies the possibility of God, how could they see the love that comes from Him?
It's something I"m still struggling with. I don't want to walk around all day wearing a shirt that says, "I'm only nice to you because of Jesus". That's not really the best way of saying it.
I believe God is the source of all good things. Whenever I do anything nice, it was not of my own work. Also, if I ever see a non-Christian doing good work, I rejoice that God is doing good things through people who may not even realize it.
It makes me think though, that if someone where to truly know we are Christians by our love, our love would have to be so out of the ordinary, so unlike any human love, that people could not possibly confuse it with that of just some nice guy.
As much as I love nice guys.
It does however, set the bar pretty high on our definition of what it means to love one another.
Yours In Christ,
Just Another Jesus Freak
Monday, January 14, 2008
Perfect Melody
In music, there is always a little dissonance.
It's those couple of notes that just sound unhappy, and bring tension to an otherwise soothing song. Some of the most beautiful music ever composed is filled with dissonance, and could never be written without it. If you ask composers why music needs moments when a harmony is simply unpleasant to the ear, they will tell you it's there so it can resolve. A chord that is wondrous and emotionally uplifting to hear could barely offer such an experience unless it is lifting you up out of the dissonance before it. It becomes that much more worthwhile.
In life, there is always a little dissonance.
We can all agree with that. Every time we encounter those unhappy and tense moments in life, it becomes so much harder to see God's plan for it all. Why did I have to fall? Why did I have to say that? Why did my wallet happen to get stolen? What sort of spiritual good is to be brought about by it all?
Let's take the most perfect song, the most perfect melody, ever to grace the earth: Jesus' life. Imagine He had a full orchestral score going behind him the whole time, what would it sound like? Just think of all the dissonance that would pound in your ears with every step He took as He carried the cross, and just think how marvelous the chord would sound when He came out of the tomb. I tell you that chord would not sound nearly as sweet as it does if there had not been all that dissonance.
Now image the melody that makes up your life. Yes, you get your own personal theme song. For every dissonant point where we stumble, doubt, cry out, cave in, break down, and get torn up, God, our great composer, will resolve it. When the pain passes by and the soothing melodies of His blessings flow through, we appreciate it that much more. Better still, we are promised a finale that will be beyond anything we can imagine. An eternal chord of grandeur that cannot fade.
In Christ,
Just another Jesus Freak
It's those couple of notes that just sound unhappy, and bring tension to an otherwise soothing song. Some of the most beautiful music ever composed is filled with dissonance, and could never be written without it. If you ask composers why music needs moments when a harmony is simply unpleasant to the ear, they will tell you it's there so it can resolve. A chord that is wondrous and emotionally uplifting to hear could barely offer such an experience unless it is lifting you up out of the dissonance before it. It becomes that much more worthwhile.
In life, there is always a little dissonance.
We can all agree with that. Every time we encounter those unhappy and tense moments in life, it becomes so much harder to see God's plan for it all. Why did I have to fall? Why did I have to say that? Why did my wallet happen to get stolen? What sort of spiritual good is to be brought about by it all?
Let's take the most perfect song, the most perfect melody, ever to grace the earth: Jesus' life. Imagine He had a full orchestral score going behind him the whole time, what would it sound like? Just think of all the dissonance that would pound in your ears with every step He took as He carried the cross, and just think how marvelous the chord would sound when He came out of the tomb. I tell you that chord would not sound nearly as sweet as it does if there had not been all that dissonance.
Now image the melody that makes up your life. Yes, you get your own personal theme song. For every dissonant point where we stumble, doubt, cry out, cave in, break down, and get torn up, God, our great composer, will resolve it. When the pain passes by and the soothing melodies of His blessings flow through, we appreciate it that much more. Better still, we are promised a finale that will be beyond anything we can imagine. An eternal chord of grandeur that cannot fade.
In Christ,
Just another Jesus Freak
Every New Day
I pray that anything I post up here will be a blessing somehow.
It couldn't be done without God. What with the plank in my eye and the fifty different yokes He's trying to get off my back.
It's my intense desire to be that 'new man' CS Lewis wrote about. I do not simply wish to be a 'nice' man, or some guy writing nice stuff without having the truly transforming touch God can bring. Of course, I'm still being transformed, little by little. Hopefully, this blog can be something new among the millions of voices on the internet, little by little.
In Christ,
Just another Jesus Freak
It couldn't be done without God. What with the plank in my eye and the fifty different yokes He's trying to get off my back.
Time will tell if this desire to write is God given or simply a worldly desire. I've taken the first step, let's see if the lamp by my feet moves with me.
It's my intense desire to be that 'new man' CS Lewis wrote about. I do not simply wish to be a 'nice' man, or some guy writing nice stuff without having the truly transforming touch God can bring. Of course, I'm still being transformed, little by little. Hopefully, this blog can be something new among the millions of voices on the internet, little by little.
In Christ,
Just another Jesus Freak
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