My terrifying treasure

My computer battery has 13% as I start to write this blog post.

Reason says to wait until it is charged.  Logic says that I have a folder of drafts that I could share with you.  My common sense says that the thought I want to share is not fleshed out enough, not polished enough to share in this brief moment, (not when only 10% remains now.)

But I can’t breathe in and out right now without a catch in my breath at the glory of the Gospel.

This truth we call the Gospel – guys – it is insane. Offensive. Confusing. Terrifying.

Just this

Just this, fabs.

This is all you have to do right now.  Be. And sit. And rest. And wait.

You don’t have to do tomorrow yet. Just slow down and stop scrambling to get ahead of whatever might be around the corner.  There are hard things there for sure.  Tomorrow holds challenges and obstacles, but today has obstacles enough of its own: starting with the challenge to be in today and not tomorrow.

You don’t have to do yesterday, with all its bumps and bruises and pain and failure and frustrations – that is not what you have to do today.  You just have to do this moment. Maybe how you feel about yesterday is a part of this moment, but yesterday itself is gone.

Don’t forget to remember

Take a deep breath.  Remember what is true.  Nothing has changed.  No matter what new trial rises on the horizon today, no matter the sin or suffering setting behind you – nothing has changed.  Your status has not shifted.  Your security remains unmoved.  God’s love for you is unaltered.

The danger of demanding things from God

This is the story of the God of Israel: He provided for His people.  He heard their cries. He delivered them from slavery. He led them through the darkness of the wilderness and provided water for them in the dryness of the desert.

And this is the story of how the people of Israel responded:

Yet they sinned still more against him, rebelling against the Most High in the desert. They tested God in their heart by demanding the food they craved. They spoke against God, saying, “Can God spread a table in the wilderness? (Psalm 78:17-19 ESV)

Healing on His terms

You know what I hate?  Apathy.  It cuts you off from people and from God and it does it in such a sneaky way that you actually don’t even care about being cut off.  The promise of joy is no incentive to apathy; it doesn’t care.  The threat of discomfort is no deterrent to apathy; it is indifferent.

I want to be healed from apathy.  And I know God wants that for me too.  Which begs a question: if God cares so much about me being healed and free from my sin, why doesn’t He just wave a hand over my head and heal me from it?