They say that the longest distance in the universe is from the head to the heart. We say we know in whole but behave like we only know in part. Vague like abstract art. We are all bobbleheads living in a world of walking deads. We know so much but we never get ahead. So much to do and so little commitment.
We try to separate revelation from salvation with the injection of the poison of false hope and human determination. "How much do you want it?" Wrong question. "What's the point?" Pay no attention because by our own definition, picking up the cross and sharing in Christ's affliction means that by the sweat of our own brow we will build our heavenly mansion. It's a combination of worldly passion and selfish ambition whitewashed with a thick layer of pious conviction.
Look around and see the myriad of laws surrounding us under the guise of dealing with the flaws pertaining to us. The same ones we've built up in the name of loving Jesus. We call it the house of prayer but really it's become a house of mirrors with no way to correct our own errors. There must be a hand somewhere to wipe the dirt. Blood to wash the sin-stained shirt. And yet, we're still caught up in the activities of yesteryear except maybe this time around we add one more day of prayer and replace the pews with detachable chairs. Traditionally modern. Newly ancient. Old is not better. New is not newer. Do's and dont's like we're machines during lent. Lots of Movements but no improvement.
So it seems we hit the snooze button as much as we hit up our old "friends." It's obviously easier to stop when you reach a dead end. Then the familiar becomes comfortable, the comfortable becomes lovable, and the lovable becomes impossible to forsake and repent. And even in the moments of clarity, the cold winds of change and the premature fears of the brain convince us otherwise, to stay warm inside, to stay there and hide, to stay where you're filled with lies, least alive, passion dies, until we realize we will never arrive no matter how hard we try. It's the classic case of a seed sown among thorns. Choked up yet never fully mourned because when it comes time to choose "whom you will serve" we're rarely torn. Perhaps we've lost sight of our born-again identity; spiritual amnesia a la Jason Bourne.
When everything is not what it seems and seems to be out of order, it's not enough to simply redefine words and redraw the borders, especially when the preacher's got a chip on his shoulder. It's not enough to flex every spiritual muscle just to raise a hand in a place full of grace instead of using the same energy to give a hand to those who really need grace. It's not enough. It'll never be enough even if we're actually determined to run this race based on faith. We might as well huff and puff. Transform ourselves, built Ford tough. Fight off all crime and sin like we're Scruff McGruff. But how quickly we forget that His grace is sufficient and that He is more than enough.
And we're back in the house of mirrors. Only this time around I'm on my knees in desperate prayer. I've seen enough of me and my will. I need these shiny walls to shatter to see the blood of Christ that covers me. No more building, it's time to start breaking. It's time to be broken. There is absolutely nothing I have done to come to this point in this journey of knowing and loving Christ more. Dead men can't choose life, let alone choose to obey Christ to somehow obtain everlasting life. Any sign of life in me is Christ in me. Any sign of obedience is the Spirit in me. Any love reflects the Father who loves me. We begin by grace and so we end by grace. My disgrace covered by His grace to be exact. I used to be on fire for Jesus and ready to do His will, but grace amazing found me and led me to the Good News of Jesus Christ, how He did it already and said, "It is finished." Now I'm enjoying HIS passion and all consuming fire and HIS will is being done in me. HE is that link from the head to the heart, not my own efforts or hours of meditation. HE is that piece that completes the picture, not my own skills or hours of perfection. In other words, less of me and more of Jesus. In other words, I become nothing and Jesus becomes everything.
In other words, Jesus is my everything.
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