shekinah

Thick, black smoke billowed across the sky, hanging like thunder-heads on the horizon. Orange streetlights glared down into the pavement. Orange flames licked the blazing car stalled on the interstate. Shards of glass littered the black top, glinting red and spiraling light in all directions. The seatbelt cut into my shoulder when I braked; and scudding squeals filled the air as those in cars around me did the same.

It shocked me a little to discover that such small flames could cause such billowing clouds of smoke. The accident hadn't taken place too long before I rounded the bend--a barely perceptible increase in temperature, worried yells of men calling to each other, a brief downshift in speed and then I was rolling past, all carnage behind and open road before me. The overhanging smoke was the only sign that anything had happened.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the glory of God. The heavens declare His glory, the same glory that led the children of Israel like a pillar of cloud by day and a burning pillar of fire by night. The Lord has said that He will reveal His glory so that all mankind will see it; it will hang over the people like a canopy. This same glory so filled His tabernacle that Moses and the elders could not enter it; this glory passed before Moses when God hid him in the rocks so that he would not see God's face; this glory was so great that it killed the high priests if they did not offer enough incense to shield them from His greatness--this is what is coming to the earth.

The statement the Lord has been turning in my spirit this week is this: "It is not a matter of whether or not you will see My glory; the question is, will you be ready when you do?" People get ready. Something bigger than we've imagined is coming to the earth--and we are not ready for it.

I don't think it's a coincidence that fog machines have had such an enthusiastic reception at concerts (and even some worship services). We cling to shadows and Christ fulfills all. The pervasive deception in the society is that religion is boring; we cling to the poor copy and don't see the reality for who He is. He is light. And He's bigger than we think.

This is the beauty of Jesus shining through us. When we seek to be a burning and shining lamp (even as John the Baptist was), our sphere of influence changes--not because of who we are, but because of who He is. Smoke always dwarfs the fire, even as the relatively small fire surrounding the car produced enough smoke to cover the sky for miles. When we allow the Lord to consume our hearts in a blaze of love for Him, He comes in with the cloud of His glory. The Lord sits enthroned as King of glory.

"This little light of mine" may only shine bright enough to impact a tiny circle of people, but His glory fills the heavens. As we pray, "Lord, let Your glory fall," I believe He answers, "I will--but where there's smoke, there's fire." Let our hearts burn within us, releasing fragrant incense-prayers that draw the smoke of His glory for the world to see. This will happen; will we take part in the process?

Even so, Lord, come quickly.

Grace over you.

the meekest one

In the beginning was the Word of God incarnate. The Word took a physical body and lived with us. He was light shining in the darkness, hope in the face of despair, love blooming in hate, beauty in squallor, perfection in brokenness, God walking and living on earth. We rejected Him because we loved darkness. Our hearts embraced death when crucified the Life.

But because of His submission to the Father's will that He should suffer, He brought life from death; and by His unprecedented love for us, He gave to us the gift of freedom through pouring out His blood. All we have to do is believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and confess His lordship with our mouths, and we are free from the condemning law of sin. This is the simple message of salvation.

1 Peter 2:23 captures the message I'm trying (and often failing--thank You, Lord, for grace!) to learn:

When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered,
he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly.

I've read that so glibly and so thoughtlessly in the past, without coming to terms with the vastness of what it means. The Word of God was silent. He spoke the universe into existance; the creative nature of His very breath animated dust and formed man, and yet He was silent.

Louis Giglio's message, "How Great is Our God" has helped to pull things into perspective for me so much about how big God is, and how small we (well..."I" anyway) try to make Him. We live in a universe with stars trillions of light-years away--places so distant that we would die before ever arriving there, and yet He's greater still. Deuteronomy 33:27 says that God is our refuge, and the strength of His arms upholds us forever. The fullness of this enormous, mind-blowing God was in the One we chose to kill; and He accepted it without comment.

It will take a lifetime to understand this sacrifice. My biggest struggle in life is the desire to defend myself; it's an urge that surfaces when I'm wrong, but even more so when I'm right. Yet Isaiah 53 tells me that the Jesus after whom I strive to pattern my life made no protest when we mistreated Him. He embraced the cross in silence for me. If He did it, He expects us to follow His lead when we crucify our flesh. Ouch.

The lens of Easter was still fresh in my mind when I was reading in Psalms this morning, and I found myself tearing up over this verse:

Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him and he will do this: He will make your
righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday
sun. Psalm 37:5-6

This must have been such a comfort to Jesus in His life on earth. The context of verse 6 is that of the vindicating God. The Father is seeking those who will willingly lay down our right to be right and trust Him in the face of others misunderstanding us. He has covanented with us that if we will just trust Him with our reputations and quit trying to defend ourselves, we will shine in the light of His glory like the summer sun at noon.

The process of meekness is difficult. Our flesh never wants to take the lowest road; but God truly does give grace to be humble. If you're anything like me, it's a process of daily (sometimes hourly) confessing to the Lord that you've cared more for man's opinion than for His and allowed the fear of man to dictate your decisions--but He's so kind and so tender in our brokenness.

May the beauty of His relationship overwhelm your heart yet again today, friends. Blessings in Jesus' name.

zoe

While reading in John 1 this morning, I felt the Lord quicken my heart over verse 4:

In him was life, and that life was the light of men.

In particular, I felt the Holy Spirit settling over the words "life" and "light." Strong's concordance says life here (zoe) means, "of the absolute fullness of life; life real and genuine; a life active and vigorous, devoted to God, and blessed." This is a different kind of life than the one used in Mark 3:4--"psyche"--which refers more to the mortal life of all things, the process that distinguishes between an elephant and a boulder.

We can be alive without being alive. Anyone whose eyes have flitted open on a gray November morning and half-prayed to a corner of the ceiling, "God, I can't face another day" without expecting an answer knows this. It manifests in weak knees and thumping hearts when we've felt too heartsick to eat for a few days. It shows up when we avoid our friends for our televisions and fitfully daydream about inventing a switch hard-wired into our brains that would turn off all thoughts so we could force ourselves to sleep. It surfaces in a heavy, drugged feeling when we cannot seem to differentiate between dreams and reality.

Simply functioning from one day to another is not the life that is God. Jesus said in John 14:6 that He is the way, truth, and the life (zoe)--full, vigorous, beautiful life that transcends mere existence.

The word used for light (phos) in John 1:4 has many translations, but the one that I liked best was, "that which is exposed to the view of all, openly, publicly." The beauty of Jesus' life was for
all to see. He did not hide His freedom with the Father; nor did He share it with only a select group. The people who walked in darkness saw a great light.

In His kindness, God was not content for us to live a life bound to striving. He came that we might have zoe and have it fully. He came that we might have Himself. Today is the Jewish feast of Passover, and tomorrow marks the anniversary of Jesus' death (He died on Wednesday, was in the ground three days, and rose again on the first day of the week). Only God could bring life out of death and use sacrifice to bring fullness for all. The life He gave transcends momentary emotions. There will always be heartaches, seasons in the valley, flights into the desert; but
they are temporary. God glories in restoration, and when He comes to you, He brings with Him fullness of joy.

Father, I bless my friends to delight in Your fullness. You promised we would win if we did not lose heart. May we walk according to Hebrews 10:35-37 and Galatians 6:9, never giving up, never losing faith. May we have eyes opened to the "small" miracles that take place every day. May we never mistake the purpose of prayer as the right to tell You what to do. You are sovereign and Your ways are right. Give us the grace today to say, "not my will but Yours,"
hands that rush to give, mouths opened wide to sing Your praises, and hearts that embrace love and reject offense. In Jesus' beautiful name....

the way of truth

Teach me Your way, O LORD; I will walk in Your truth; Unite my heart to fear Your name. ~Psalm 86:11

What is Your way, God? What does it mean to walk in Your truth?

Truly, Your way has always been first to be and then to do. First, be holy (even as You are holy) and then do the things that mark a holy life. First, love You fiercely and proactively, and then take care of other people as an overflow of love. First experience freedom that is the reality of life with Christ, and then bring life wherever we go. Your ways are truth because You are the way, truth and the life. Jesus, we come to Your Father through the way You prepared, and we lay down our lives to prepare the way before You to touch the world.

In all of this, however, we are incapable of living lives that are singled in on You in ourselves. My heart is deceitful and it pulls and yearns for things that You know would only harm me. I do not do what I want to do, and I do what I do not want to do. Paul understood.

I'm asking You for grace again--grace to zero in and focus on Your beauty. I can only give You the reverence You deserve if You give me that singleness of purpose. I lay out all of my conflicting desires before You and proclaim the sovereignty of Jesus over them. Let me love You even more than I have until this point. I've only broken the surface of a vast ocean, and Your depths are calling out to me.

unchanging

I've spent hours staring at a brick wall. Sometimes days....even years. The lesson God began teaching me over a year ago continues to come back around--the quiet voice that answers, "here I am" in the middle of so much noise and confusion still echoes in my heart when I expect it least.

I was reading in Psalm 46 this morning and God began opening my heart to the truth of verses 1 and 2 again. They've been some of my favorite verses ever since GT and the Halo Express helped me memorize them over a decade ago by putting them to music on a cassette tape geared toward children learning to face their fear. How like Him to speak yet again through something that has become so familiar, right?

I've started a log where I scribble down the verses that stand out to me when I'm reading the Word. Sometimes the Holy Spirit will lead me through a particular theme in what seems to be a random trek in the Word. The words that stuck out to me in Psalm 46:2 were "be removed":

"1 God is our refuge and strength,

A very present help in trouble.

2 Therefore we will not fear,

Even though the earth be removed,

And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the
sea;" ~Psalm 46:1-2 (my emphasis added)

I went back to the original Hebrew and found that this word is "muwr" which literally translates "to change, exchange, alter." So often I thought the psalmist was speaking of the obliteration of the world, when, in reality, he was speaking of the transient nature of circumstances.

The earth will one day be purged with fire before God descends to establish His heavenly city on the earth and dwell with us, but this is an exchange (His glory for our "reality"), not a termination of the world. What this reiterates, then, is the temporal nature of what seems so concrete to us. Stone walls and circumstances--they are flimsy in comparison to God, our refuge and strength.

Psalm 46:1 says that God is a very present--m@'od matsa'--help when we are distressed. M@'od means: exceedingly, much, might, force, and abundant. Matsa' means: to be found, to be encountered. What does this mean? Simply that, in contrast to our transient circumstances, our God is unchanging and steady, and in our distress, He is waiting to be found and encountered with might and abundance. His Presence is there for us to experience when things are going well, but He shows up excessively when His children are distressed.

I'm learning that the times I feel Him the least are the times He's most present and most active. I've come full-circle in life, and already have shed almost as many tears of gratitude and joy as I did of desolation. When we seek Him, He becomes our exceeding great reward, and the delight when we "find" Him far outweighs the grief of the journey.

Press on, friends. He's worth it.