O Lord, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is high; I cannot attain it.
Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,"
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.
For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret, intricately woven
in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there were none of them.
{Psalm 139:1-16}
A lot of people go to Psalm 23 ("The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want") when they are upset or scared. I go to Psalm 139.
When I'm having out-of-control emotions or worries, it's usually because I've forgotten who I am and how God sees me. Psalm 139 reverberates with the reassurance of my identity and the anchor of God's love for me. My favorite name for God is "El Roi"--"the God who sees me." I take great comfort in simply knowing that He not only knows me, He knows who He created me to be--no matter if I forget.
Sometimes, we feel paralyzingly condemned by the sins of our past. Sometimes, we feel overwhelmed by the burden of our futures. But it's important to remember the consistency of God. "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever" (Hebrews 13:8).
That's one of the things I love about Jesus. He went to the cross, and He hasn't changed His mind about it.
In order to rescue us and bring us into relationship with Him, God sent the one thing that was most precious to Him--His Son--as a sacrifice to buy us (1 Corinthians 7:23). That's how much we are worth to Him: He couldn't just throw down any old bull or goat.
When we get worried about our pasts or our futures (both of which have tried very hard to claim me this week), we need to remember that God wouldn't sacrifice something so precious to get us, then throw us aside. "Ok, kids, I've bought you out of hell. Now you're on your own. Hope you can hide from the devil until I return for you. Good luck!"
Why would anyone do that?
We're like kids climbing a tree, scared to take another step up, unaware that Dad has been standing below us the entire time to catch us if we fall. In fact, Dad even created the tree. Our security in Him is so strong and so unshakable, yet we are inconsistent in our ability to understand that.
Good thing He's consistent. He "hems us in behind and before." He knows what we're going to say before we say it, what we're going to think before we think it. He wrote your story before you were born.
He surrounds you and swaddles you around like a baby blanket and guards you on all sides like powerful armor. He is all OVER you. I mean, ALL OVER YOU, child! And if you know what goodness, what care, what everlasting love is in the heart of a Father, that thought should be your comfort and confidence.
Sometimes, when I get worried, I imagine Him laughing and saying, "If only you knew, silly girl!"
He will never change His mind about you.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Let There Be Light
Yesterday morning, I went outside and just sat in the sun. The sun was so bright that I had to close my eyes, but I was ok with that, because I was simply enjoying the warmth and lack of darkness.
The comfort of sunshine is a familiar sensation to us as humans.
That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we looked upon and have touched with our hands, concerning the word of life--the life was made manifest, and we have seen it, and testify to it and proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and was made manifest to us, wrote John, revving up his audience for a huge revelation (1 John 1:1-2).
Then, in the next paragraph, this is what he wrote: This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all (v. 5).
A simple thought, but a revolutionary one.
A while ago, I wrote about walking into the "darkness" of the unknown with God. In order to travel the path He has designed for you, you have to give up control and fix your eyes on the hope that is unseen. You have to become blind to the world's ways of understanding and trust Him completely.
I realized yesterday morning as I was sitting in the sun, too blinded by light to open my eyes, that maybe God's path doesn't necessarily trailblaze through the blinding darkness of uncertainty. Maybe, instead, it is a journey deeper into the blinding light of His presence.
And we have something more sure, the prophetic word, to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts (2 Peter 1:19)...
...that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light (1 Peter 2:9)...
...for at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of the light...(Ephesians 5:8)...
For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ (2 Corinthians 4:6).
The light is the knowledge of God--relationship with God--we have because of Jesus. Light is the truth of who God's character, which we can only come to know through His Son.
"I am the light of the world," said Jesus. "Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life" (John 8:12).
I know it can feel like darkness when you follow God. You may have to blind yourself to the cares of the world. You feel like you can't see anything. But Jesus promises us that we will not walk in darkness. We walk in light.
I think, too, that though we are at first blinded by His light, our eyes begin to adjust as we travel further and further into His presence. We begin to have heavenly perspective.
I know that blows your mind. It blew mine. Take a moment to absorb the rays.
According to John, God is pure light that is untouched by darkness. All humans submit to one of two types of blindness. We can be blinded by the darkness of the world (1 John 2:11), stumbling around in hatred and offense, without hope of seeing anything. OR, we can walk in the light of Jesus, completely set free from all darkness, constantly having our vision adjusted to really see the truth. According to John, God is pure light that is untouched by darkness. If we walk in His light, we have to trust that He will give us new eyes to see only the light, melting away all the things we thought were lurking in the dark.
When you were a little kid, your parents told you not to look directly into the sun because it would hurt your eyes. But I think that spiritually, we have to be unafraid to let our eyes be altered by the magnificent, burning light of His presence. So, like a little child, cast off the darkness, and be welcomed into the warm, pure light of His love.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
The Secret Garden
A garden locked is my sister, my bride, a spring locked, a fountain sealed.--Song of Solomon 4:12
Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at your altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God. Blessed are those who dwell in your house, ever singing your praise!--Psalm 84:3-4
Who is that coming up from the wilderness, leaning on her beloved?--Song of Solomon 8:5
I've heard that, in the temple of Jerusalem, the curtain that separated the courts from the Holy of Holies was three feet thick. I don't know how you would make a curtain that thick, but someone did it. The Jews put it up to guard the people from the overwhelming vibrancy of God's presence. Once a year, when the selected priest entered the Holy of Holies to make a sacrifice, they tied a rope to Him so that they could pull him out if he passed out or died.
That's pretty intense.
What's even more intense is thinking about how, when Jesus died, the curtain was ripped in two, and now we all have access to the Holy of Holies in His name. What's more...we are the Holy of Holies.
Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you are bought with a price.--1 Corinthians 6:19-20
Don't worry, this blog post is not going to spin out on a tangent about taking care of your bodies (although we should think about that). I want to write about meeting God in your spiritual house--the secret place where only you and He can go.
My parents talked about God a lot when I was growing up, and there are only a few things I remember, but one of them has always stuck out because, I guess, the metaphor was so striking to me as a child. My dad told my mom once, long ago, that he was reading in some book that a man's heart is like a honeycomb. There are different chambers, and people are free to move about them, but there is one innermost chamber where God belongs, and not even a man's wife can enter it.
I think I know I'm in relational sin (see last blog post) when I can sense myself trying to drag other people into the secret chamber with God.
I'm not trying to be creepy and overly-metaphorical. Let me explain in more concrete terms. There is a literal physical place for prayer: somewhere you can be alone and without distractions (your room, your backyard, your closet, even the bathroom). When you have daily prayer time, you enter this place--your garden--and you are committed to worshipping Him and talking only to Him, forgetting the cares of the world, for as many minutes as you can.
But sometimes, other thoughts and distractions creep in. Whatever is on your heart, whatever you're hoping for outside of God, rises to the surface.
For me, the distractions are mostly the cares of the world, thoughts of my future, because I am hoping in those things over God. And, as I have mentioned, the scariest monster in the garden is my worship of intimacy with other people, which makes my heart cast aside intimacy with my Father.
But praise God, He is doing a work in me, and I have seen such tremendous heart change in myself. (Again, see previous blog post.) I will take all the prayers you can offer about it, too!
I want to live in the garden with my Jesus. I don't want my heart to desire anything but Him. I have been in His presence before--consumed only with thoughts of Him--and have discovered the sweet, uncomplicated joy of knowing exactly who I am in Him. The garden is a very peaceful place, and it is full of freedom.
For a day in your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere. I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of wickedness.--Psalm 84:10
I honestly think I haven't felt that for more than thirty seconds at a time before this summer. But during the past few months, I have explored the garden more and more (largely due to unemployment as well as full immersion in my family's Holy Spirit house). Now that I've had some more extended visits in the joyful, joyful garden of His presence, I want to stay there.
Which makes me all the more frustrated when I get distracted by the cares of the world, and my desire for the beauty of the garden lessens. Then I retreat into the old, dead, overgrown garden of my own thoughts. Yuck.
But the veil is torn. And do you know what that means? It means that the garden is inside of us.
We should make solitary prayer a daily priority. But God has also been teaching me something else in my time in the garden. The secret garden of your heart--that hidden place where only He belongs--is not a retreat. It's a tent, and you carry it around. Everywhere you go, His presence goes with you.
But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing...(2 Corinthians 2:14-15).
The same triumph that ripped a three-foot curtain through and rolled away a gigantic stone lives in us. Even as God is teaching me about deep intimacy with Him that no person can enter, He is also showing me that I never have to leave the secret place.
Ironically, even though other people don't belong in that secret place, they can smell the sweet fragrance of His presence whenever they're around you.
And you know what? You can, too.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Die
And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.--Galatians 5:24
This blog has taken a hiatus for two weeks because I've been out of town. I went to an awesome conference for missionaries in Nashville, and then to Texas to look into teacher certification programs there. But now I'm back!
...Well, not really back. I have returned changed and can't go back to the person I was even two weeks ago. But isn't that always the case when you walk with the Lord? We are continuously being transformed from one degree of glory to the next. And just when we think there's no more glory, He blasts our socks off with how much freer He makes us.
That thought is a nice transition to what I want to talk about today. I want to talk about a hefty subject: death.
Remember the movie Child's Play (usually referred to as "Chuckie")? You know, that creepy movie where the doll was possessed with the evil spirit of a dead guy? (I never ever thought I would be referencing a horror film in my blog, but bear with me.) I've only seen it once (and then vowed never to repeat the experience), but I remember at the end, the main characters have fought Chuckie, burning and dismembering him, and they think he is gone for good. Just as they are celebrating his defeat, Chuckie's dismembered arm comes back and tries to strangle them!
This is a silly movie, but it illustrates something we all face (not literally, thank goodness). When we become followers of Jesus, we're born again. Our old selves die, to be recreated in His image. But I feel like sometimes, just when I reach a new level with God and feel freer than ever, I am sneak-attacked by an old peice of myself that tries to bring me down again. The evil doll is destroyed, and really, the arm has no hope of defeating me.
But it sure does try.
Over the past few days, I've been completely stressed out by a part of me that, like Chuckie's arm, keeps trying to creep back and attack my relationship with God. This ugly thing is my natural tendency to idolize people over Him. Worshipping relationships leads me to long for intimacy and exclusivity with other people, but that closeness should belong to God and no one else. It has been a pattern for me in the past, and it has led to other sins in relationships--jealousy, rivalry, strife, idol-worship, ignoring God. It has infected many of my relationships, whether people could see it or not.
We all have some pet sins that spring from natural inclinations. Let me assure you, your natural inclinations are NOT your fault. My longing for intimacy is actually a good thing, something God put in me to motivate me to seek Him. But when I channel that longing into a best friend, a boyfriend, a family member, or some other person, it is incredibly destructive and does the opposite of what it is supposed to do. It entangles me unaware and gets me to trip over the same shoelace that has caused me to fall in the past (Hebrews 12:1). It can get creepy, weird--and hopeless.
That I have this natural tendency is not a new revelation for me. What is new for me is God bringing me up to so much higher of an atmosphere with Him that I just can't stand my own sin anymore. I want it dead. I want it murdered. I want it obliterated.
I want to kill myself. Obviously not literally--but I long for the death of those parts of me that keep me from Him. I want to take that mangled Chuckie arm and stomp it until it twitches and dies.
Paul said, "I die every day!" (1 Corinthians 15:31). "O Lord, I love the habitation of your house and the place where your glory dwells" (Psalm 26:8). And because I love that place, anything that keeps me out of it must be relentlessly and violently killed.
Self, you're going DOWN. (Now I'm thinking of the song "Kill the Beast!", which is perhaps not the greatest reference since the villain sang that song in that movie. Anyway....)
Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him if a great millstone were hung around his neck and he were thrown into the sea. And if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life crippled than with two hands to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life lame than with two feet to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to sin, tear it out. It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into hell, 'where their worm does not die and the fire is not quenched.' For everyone will be salted with fire. (Mark 9:42-49)
I used to think that Jesus meant that you should remove yourself from temptation. And I think we should, certainly. If you're addicted to drugs, don't hang around people who are doing drugs. If you struggle with lust, don't go to a strip club. These things are obvious.
I think in some sense, what Jesus means by "cutting off your arm" and "tearing out your eye" is to just put to death the parts of yourself--issues, selfish desires, etc.--that cause the sin in the first place. Not only are we to cut off the circumstantial temptation to sin, but also the internal temptation to sin.
I don't think cutting off my idolatrous relationships is the solution to my problem (although I have done that in the past). That's a temporary solution, but I will still face the problem later if I don't murder that part of me that causes it: my selfish desire to be recognized, appreciated, and special to someone else. That right to intimacy belongs exclusively to the Father.
I have to kill that sneaky mentality in me that makes me view my life as a performance for others to applaud. My life is not a performance--not even to Jesus. It's not a book to be read and enjoyed by an exclusive audience that I select. It is a sacrifice poured out on the altar before a holy God. As long as I try to hang on to myself, I will keep myself back from the all-consuming fire of His presence (Hebrews 12:29, Deuteronomy 4:24), which burns away all parts of me and leaves nothing but the sweet joy and freedom of Him. Ironically, if I don't chop off my arm, I will rob myself of the pure intimacy and closeness that I long for, that He created me to enjoy.
Does this make sense to anybody? Can I get a witness up in here???
There are two kinds of fire: one for purification, and one for destruction. The destructive fire is unquenchable, like Jesus said, and it will burn you to ash. But the fire of our God will burn out impurities, reducing you to salt for the earth and solid gold (1 Peter 1:7).
I don't know what keeps you from God, what arm or eyeball causes you to fall into sin. But I want to encourage you to recognize it today, whatever it is, and commit murder.
Jesus is our example. He is not a God who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, as He Himself was tempted (Hebrews 4:15). He sacrificed His will to the Father and was obedient to death (Philippians 2:5-11). He did not make Himself a god (even though He had a right to), but instead killed His own desires.
The good news? When we follow Him, we inherit this mentality of humility. "Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus...." (Philippians 2:5). Isn't it great that even when God asks us to do something hard, He offers us the tools to do it? He is inviting you today to be consumed by his purifying fire.
This blog has taken a hiatus for two weeks because I've been out of town. I went to an awesome conference for missionaries in Nashville, and then to Texas to look into teacher certification programs there. But now I'm back!
...Well, not really back. I have returned changed and can't go back to the person I was even two weeks ago. But isn't that always the case when you walk with the Lord? We are continuously being transformed from one degree of glory to the next. And just when we think there's no more glory, He blasts our socks off with how much freer He makes us.
That thought is a nice transition to what I want to talk about today. I want to talk about a hefty subject: death.
Remember the movie Child's Play (usually referred to as "Chuckie")? You know, that creepy movie where the doll was possessed with the evil spirit of a dead guy? (I never ever thought I would be referencing a horror film in my blog, but bear with me.) I've only seen it once (and then vowed never to repeat the experience), but I remember at the end, the main characters have fought Chuckie, burning and dismembering him, and they think he is gone for good. Just as they are celebrating his defeat, Chuckie's dismembered arm comes back and tries to strangle them!
This is a silly movie, but it illustrates something we all face (not literally, thank goodness). When we become followers of Jesus, we're born again. Our old selves die, to be recreated in His image. But I feel like sometimes, just when I reach a new level with God and feel freer than ever, I am sneak-attacked by an old peice of myself that tries to bring me down again. The evil doll is destroyed, and really, the arm has no hope of defeating me.
But it sure does try.
Over the past few days, I've been completely stressed out by a part of me that, like Chuckie's arm, keeps trying to creep back and attack my relationship with God. This ugly thing is my natural tendency to idolize people over Him. Worshipping relationships leads me to long for intimacy and exclusivity with other people, but that closeness should belong to God and no one else. It has been a pattern for me in the past, and it has led to other sins in relationships--jealousy, rivalry, strife, idol-worship, ignoring God. It has infected many of my relationships, whether people could see it or not.
We all have some pet sins that spring from natural inclinations. Let me assure you, your natural inclinations are NOT your fault. My longing for intimacy is actually a good thing, something God put in me to motivate me to seek Him. But when I channel that longing into a best friend, a boyfriend, a family member, or some other person, it is incredibly destructive and does the opposite of what it is supposed to do. It entangles me unaware and gets me to trip over the same shoelace that has caused me to fall in the past (Hebrews 12:1). It can get creepy, weird--and hopeless.
That I have this natural tendency is not a new revelation for me. What is new for me is God bringing me up to so much higher of an atmosphere with Him that I just can't stand my own sin anymore. I want it dead. I want it murdered. I want it obliterated.
I want to kill myself. Obviously not literally--but I long for the death of those parts of me that keep me from Him. I want to take that mangled Chuckie arm and stomp it until it twitches and dies.
Paul said, "I die every day!" (1 Corinthians 15:31). "O Lord, I love the habitation of your house and the place where your glory dwells" (Psalm 26:8). And because I love that place, anything that keeps me out of it must be relentlessly and violently killed.
Self, you're going DOWN. (Now I'm thinking of the song "Kill the Beast!", which is perhaps not the greatest reference since the villain sang that song in that movie. Anyway....)
Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him if a great millstone were hung around his neck and he were thrown into the sea. And if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life crippled than with two hands to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life lame than with two feet to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to sin, tear it out. It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into hell, 'where their worm does not die and the fire is not quenched.' For everyone will be salted with fire. (Mark 9:42-49)
I used to think that Jesus meant that you should remove yourself from temptation. And I think we should, certainly. If you're addicted to drugs, don't hang around people who are doing drugs. If you struggle with lust, don't go to a strip club. These things are obvious.
I think in some sense, what Jesus means by "cutting off your arm" and "tearing out your eye" is to just put to death the parts of yourself--issues, selfish desires, etc.--that cause the sin in the first place. Not only are we to cut off the circumstantial temptation to sin, but also the internal temptation to sin.
I don't think cutting off my idolatrous relationships is the solution to my problem (although I have done that in the past). That's a temporary solution, but I will still face the problem later if I don't murder that part of me that causes it: my selfish desire to be recognized, appreciated, and special to someone else. That right to intimacy belongs exclusively to the Father.
I have to kill that sneaky mentality in me that makes me view my life as a performance for others to applaud. My life is not a performance--not even to Jesus. It's not a book to be read and enjoyed by an exclusive audience that I select. It is a sacrifice poured out on the altar before a holy God. As long as I try to hang on to myself, I will keep myself back from the all-consuming fire of His presence (Hebrews 12:29, Deuteronomy 4:24), which burns away all parts of me and leaves nothing but the sweet joy and freedom of Him. Ironically, if I don't chop off my arm, I will rob myself of the pure intimacy and closeness that I long for, that He created me to enjoy.
Does this make sense to anybody? Can I get a witness up in here???
There are two kinds of fire: one for purification, and one for destruction. The destructive fire is unquenchable, like Jesus said, and it will burn you to ash. But the fire of our God will burn out impurities, reducing you to salt for the earth and solid gold (1 Peter 1:7).
I don't know what keeps you from God, what arm or eyeball causes you to fall into sin. But I want to encourage you to recognize it today, whatever it is, and commit murder.
Jesus is our example. He is not a God who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, as He Himself was tempted (Hebrews 4:15). He sacrificed His will to the Father and was obedient to death (Philippians 2:5-11). He did not make Himself a god (even though He had a right to), but instead killed His own desires.
The good news? When we follow Him, we inherit this mentality of humility. "Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus...." (Philippians 2:5). Isn't it great that even when God asks us to do something hard, He offers us the tools to do it? He is inviting you today to be consumed by his purifying fire.
Monday, September 1, 2014
He Who Rides Through the Deserts
Sing to God, sing praises to his name; lift up a song to him who rides through the deserts; his name is the Lord; exult before him! Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation. God settles the solitary in a home; he leads out the prisoners to prosperity, but the rebellious dwell in a parched land (Psalm 68:4-6).
Prisoners are typically people who have been arrested for some reason, right? People who are guilty. Here, "prisoners" are people enslaved to sin. The sins you commit are your own fault; the fall of the world that led us all to sin, however, is not. God recognizes the difference, and He has mercy on the prisoners who wake up and realize who He is. Not only does He set them free, He "leads them out to prosperity"--the rich blessings of the inheritance we receive through His son, Jesus.
God is also the Father to orphans. He protects widows. He provides a home for those who are isolated, for those who wander. In other words, God creates families. He establishes communities. It is His earnest desire that none of us should ever be homeless, lost, or unloved. He speaks up for the defenseless and empowers them by the Holy Spirit to take back what was lost.
Most earth-shatteringly, He loves us, and He Himself becomes our father. He "comes and makes his home with us" (John 14:23). No other "gods" have ever done that. In religions from all cultures throughout history, gods are lofty beings who separate themselves from humanity and only take.
Evangelist Reinhard Bonnke states that other worshipers spread a table before their gods; but the Christian God spreads a table before His children. That's the nature of our God.
Psalm 68 tells us that we should praise God because He rides through deserts bringing freedom and establishing love between us. We should praise Him because He places evil, the "rebellious" who create pain and problems for others, in the desert. He reverses the order of sin. He turns it upside down.
It's easy for people to look at the pain, violence, and evil of the world and conclude that God doesn't exist. At one point, I almost was one of those people. I studied history and couldn't understand why a good God could let there be so much moral ambiguity in the world, so much destruction, so much heartlessness--like our sin and evil was His fault.
But I couldn't let go of the idea of God, and the reason is simple: throughout my life, I had already seen the character of God. I had watched Him free prisoners and defend the poor--including myself--even from childhood. So though I could question Him and be angry with Him, I couldn't deny Him. I had already seen too many miracles.
God wasn't afraid of my doubt, and He's not afraid of yours. He wants to answer the questions you have. He has answered mine, and I am sure He will answer many more in the future.
In response to my willingness to believe in Him, He has shown me more of Himself than I had ever hoped to see. I don't understand a lot of things, but I know my God is for me, because He has blessed me so tremendously with physical blessings, but, even better, with Himself (Romans 8:31-32).
God knows that it is hard to believe. And I do too. But I will tell you that this faith thing is real. I've seen people healed, relationships restored, money coming in from unexpected sources--miracles that are so obviously miracles that anyone can see they aren't coincidence. He's a good Father, y'all.
Faith is not born out of some intellectual commitment (though that's needed), but rather from a deep understanding of who God is. That's the reason I couldn't shake Him, even during my moments of most extreme doubt and depression. I knew He was the defender of the poor and weak, the Father to the fatherless, the rescuer of captives.
Maybe you didn't have a childhood like mine. But He can't wait to start showing you right now who He really is. It's never too late to be taught like a child--His child--provided you have faith like one. All you need is the teeniest mustard seed of belief that He is good, and He will do the rest.
Prisoners are typically people who have been arrested for some reason, right? People who are guilty. Here, "prisoners" are people enslaved to sin. The sins you commit are your own fault; the fall of the world that led us all to sin, however, is not. God recognizes the difference, and He has mercy on the prisoners who wake up and realize who He is. Not only does He set them free, He "leads them out to prosperity"--the rich blessings of the inheritance we receive through His son, Jesus.
God is also the Father to orphans. He protects widows. He provides a home for those who are isolated, for those who wander. In other words, God creates families. He establishes communities. It is His earnest desire that none of us should ever be homeless, lost, or unloved. He speaks up for the defenseless and empowers them by the Holy Spirit to take back what was lost.
Most earth-shatteringly, He loves us, and He Himself becomes our father. He "comes and makes his home with us" (John 14:23). No other "gods" have ever done that. In religions from all cultures throughout history, gods are lofty beings who separate themselves from humanity and only take.
Evangelist Reinhard Bonnke states that other worshipers spread a table before their gods; but the Christian God spreads a table before His children. That's the nature of our God.
Psalm 68 tells us that we should praise God because He rides through deserts bringing freedom and establishing love between us. We should praise Him because He places evil, the "rebellious" who create pain and problems for others, in the desert. He reverses the order of sin. He turns it upside down.
It's easy for people to look at the pain, violence, and evil of the world and conclude that God doesn't exist. At one point, I almost was one of those people. I studied history and couldn't understand why a good God could let there be so much moral ambiguity in the world, so much destruction, so much heartlessness--like our sin and evil was His fault.
But I couldn't let go of the idea of God, and the reason is simple: throughout my life, I had already seen the character of God. I had watched Him free prisoners and defend the poor--including myself--even from childhood. So though I could question Him and be angry with Him, I couldn't deny Him. I had already seen too many miracles.
God wasn't afraid of my doubt, and He's not afraid of yours. He wants to answer the questions you have. He has answered mine, and I am sure He will answer many more in the future.
In response to my willingness to believe in Him, He has shown me more of Himself than I had ever hoped to see. I don't understand a lot of things, but I know my God is for me, because He has blessed me so tremendously with physical blessings, but, even better, with Himself (Romans 8:31-32).
God knows that it is hard to believe. And I do too. But I will tell you that this faith thing is real. I've seen people healed, relationships restored, money coming in from unexpected sources--miracles that are so obviously miracles that anyone can see they aren't coincidence. He's a good Father, y'all.
Faith is not born out of some intellectual commitment (though that's needed), but rather from a deep understanding of who God is. That's the reason I couldn't shake Him, even during my moments of most extreme doubt and depression. I knew He was the defender of the poor and weak, the Father to the fatherless, the rescuer of captives.
Maybe you didn't have a childhood like mine. But He can't wait to start showing you right now who He really is. It's never too late to be taught like a child--His child--provided you have faith like one. All you need is the teeniest mustard seed of belief that He is good, and He will do the rest.
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