Obedient Suffering

"…He learned obedience by the things which He suffered."*

My eyes turn an unfocused gaze to the opposite wall.
Little shafts of light dance bokeh-style.
My mind is far away.

Is this what makes men invincible?

To suffer and yet trust. To sorrow and yet sing.
To not understand and yet obey.

Is this? Is this the secret?

I think so. Because it says He was "made perfect." Entirely.

But oh, how hard it is to always accept the gift with outstretched hands, especially when it hurts.
Yet this obedience in the midst of suffering creates a beauty, a strength, a trust unlike any other.
And when we come forth, we are called sons and daughters, children of eternity.

"…He learned obedience [was perfected] by the things which He suffered."

May I never resist the fire.

* Hebrews 5:8

Measure of Love

I walk in early morning darkness, dawn barely touching the skyline. Gloved hands covering my ears in an attempt to keep warm. I pray and ponder.

What is it to truly follow the footsteps of One who went before?

I've seen plenty of good weather Christians, those who follow when the path is smooth and easy. But when it turns steep and sharp rocks cover the ground, when the trail turns into a muddy mire, when thorns pierce tender feet, it's easy to turn aside. Because following in His footsteps hurts sometimes. I know. I've been there.

Yet there is no middle ground. 

Either you follow or you don't. 

I think of Joseph. Unconditional following. From a favorite son to a common slave to a trusted servant to a condemned criminal to a prime minister. 

I'm sure he wondered why God was leading him on such a rough pathway, but he chose to trust, chose to love despite the hard lessons taught in this school of adversity. 

"If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me." {Luke 9:23}

You only "come after" one you love or respect. How much you follow depends on how much you love.

The question is,
How much do you love Him?

What Are You Doing Here?

Sometimes you just have those moments. Moments that slap you in the face and demand a reason why.

And you don't have one. 

Or if you do, it's an excuse that doesn't hold water. 

I've been there. Far too recently. Far too often.

The still small Voice whispers when you're finally quiet enough to listen.

"What are you doing here?"

My silence deepens. I have no answer. Because really, I'm the one who got myself into this mess. 

It wasn't His fault. And any defense I attempt to make will just look foolish.

I know why I'm here. Really, I do.

It's just difficult to admit that to Omnipotence. 

Because if I had just claimed Power, things would be different. 

Yet He offers me angel food and angel water. Heaven's fare. 

And I'm nourished. I can listen again. And hear the Voice. Still and small. 

He says, "Go."

And I return to the place where I last saw light, where I last had victory. And go forth to conquer. 

This love, this pursuing, amazes me.

I go.