Unearthing Insecurities

I don't think it's just coincidence that so many on this planet struggle with insecurity.

I never thought I did. 
But I am discovering in my own life that the most dangerous insecurities are the unidentified ones.

It's a hidden trap. Disguised and unrecognized.

Christian society delights in pious platitudes. We say a lot. We want affirmation for the "high standards" that we profess. It's only natural for human nature to desire recognition.

Because of this I find myself having to constantly reevaluate my life, my actions, my priorities but most importantly, the motives behind the things I do.

Whether it is my use of social media, the way I dress, pursuing academic excellence, or anything else.

The list could go on.
It's easy to want to be acknowledged. To be appreciated. To have a good reputation, a following.

But wait a minute.

Didn't Christ make Himself of no reputation?

Yes, indeed.

It's a pause for thought.
Whose affirmation do I really crave?

I want a following. But not the following you might immediately think of.
I'm learning to desire a following of blessing.
And not just the Lord blessing me, but a blessing that leaves a wake.

I want to leave a trail of blessing behind.

And I want my security to be in Christ alone.
So I'm reevaluating.

Are there any hidden insecurities in my life that I need to address that are preventing the Savior from being my true security?

Contradictions.

I have to admit, I'm a mercy lover.

On the flip side, however, I believe in justice. Justice for the falsely accused. Justice for the underdog. Justice for those deprived of justice.

I guess that's still my soft heart.

But is mercy always kindness?

--

"We want judgment for others and mercy for ourselves," the speaker said. 

I suppose it's the nature of the human heart. We want the line held when others step over the boundaries, but we want lenience shown when we ourselves trespass. 

Two-facedness at best. 

A verse comes to mind that I've been meaning to unravel more deeply for the past nine months. 

"He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?" Micah 6:8



Do justly. Love mercy. Walk humbly.

Aren't these contradictions?

You tell me.

Since when has God required something of us, but that He did not require it of Himself?

Never.

So it must be possible. Period.

--

My mind suddenly latches onto the secret.
It's when we are walking humbly at His side that we are able to live justice and mercy combined.

It's all a matter of perspective—perspective in regard to the longterm benefit of others.

Since when has God required something of us, but that He did not require it of Himself?

Abandonment

The word resonates within me. 

A friend has challenged me on a deeper definition. And so I sit with journal in hand on a dock in mist rising, thinking.

...

Forsaken. Left to suffer alone. 

Given up utterly, completely, recklessly.

Abandonment is not often viewed as a positive concept or source of security, yet it has two definitions, and Christ lived them both. 

Unrestrained surrender. 

Unparalleled rejection. 

His life was one of sacrifice, and to Him that sacrifice was joy. A life of abandon. 

This is the life He asks of me. This abandonment lived out on a day-to-day basis.  

The actuality of living the concept is a slippery one, yet not entirely out of reach. 

My life must be surrendered. It must become not my own. And more than that, I have to crave this kind of life, or else I will never be able to live it. 

Abandonment is not an easy road. It hurts. And there is no skirting the pain. 

I must learn to treasure sacrifice and call it joy. I must learn contentment when I am utterly poured out, completely given. I must show compassion even when I feel it least. 

My life must become a gift. And I must be content to give that gift at cost to myself. 

It will cost. No question. But the cost is worthwhile. 

No question. 

Lighted Eyes

I always learn a lot through people watching. 

Heightened perception sometimes allows me to notice subtleties that others miss.

The past few weeks have given me ample opportunity for such activities. A week of VBS followed hard by joyful wedding preparations culminating in a beautiful ceremony. Four lives committed to their Savior. A weekend event highlighting missions.

Now I'm home again, for a few short days, reveling in quietness and contemplation of days past.

It's the eyes that hold me.

Eyes lighted with an undimmed brilliance. Eyes that have tasted freedom. Eyes filled with a new love.

There is nothing better than seeing luster kindled behind the eyes of my friends, and I call a lot of people friends.
You are my friend, and I want to see your eyes lighted too.

If your eyes have grown dull, Love's gleams are waiting at your command because my God is a Chain-Breaker. He opens prison doors, sets captives free, heals brokenness, ignites new love.

Will you let Him? If you are unsure of how, I would love to share.

I want to see you with lighted eyes.

Unpack the Power

Prayer = power.

I've heard it countless times before.

Yet this past weekend as I sat beneath the great white expanse of a makeshift meeting place, something the speaker said suddenly grabbed my attention.

"Unpack the prayer. Unpack the power."

Hand reaches for phone. Fingers type quickly.
Eyes return to the front, yet somehow my mind is slow to follow.

The thought strikes me.

Fail to pray and you forfeit the power.

How often do I really, really pray?
I mean, the kind of prayer that you know has Power behind it?

It's a challenge to me.

Unpack the prayer. Unpack the Power.

Strength Costs

The clock ticks loud seconds away behind me. My arms and legs pulse to constant rhythm. Heavy breathing. Aching muscles. Active mind. 

Strength comes at a price. 

Discipline. Determination. Sacrifice. 

Light bulb moment in the basement. 

My strength — it’s not mine at all. It comes at a price. 

Sacrifice is the buzz word. 

If He hadn’t determined to sacrifice, if He hadn’t determined to give His life, my strength would be nothingness. 

Of course my strength is always nothingness, but there would be no alternative. No strength to infuse power into my weakness.

Yes, strength comes at a price. 

The price of sacrifice.

Live to Sacrifice

It has been awhile since I first caught a glimpse of sacrifice from this angle. Days and years pass. Time slips slowly into eternity. Struggles come and go, some still remain.

Yet as I sit here gazing out my window at the gently falling mist, at the blossoming apple tree, at the outside of my world, I remember.

It's not that I have forgotten. No, indeed.
This thought seared its way into my mind long ere this.

--

I had prayed to be "set on fire" for a long time. Years.
At times I felt it, I breathed it, I lived it. Other times I wondered where the fire had gone…

Yet early that morning as I listened to a friend share, I caught the secret to the fire.

Sacrifice.

It all seems so logical now. An altar is merely a relic without the sacrifice.
Without the sacrifice, there is no fire.

It only makes sense that the altar is the appointed meeting place between God and the soul because it is only at the altar that the fire is kindled. Yet a kindled fire is no security for a continued fire.

Sacrifice must become my life in order to keep the flame burning.

--

This world needs flames—rather it needs fires. Furnaces that cannot be extinguished because they are fed by such devoted sacrifice. A planet of fire fueled by a generation of sacrifice.

There have been in ages past those who have caught this fire. This world will go nowhere if our flames don't surpass theirs.

Live to sacrifice. Sacrifice to live.