Thoughts from a restless heart, almost a year after graduating college. I was currently working as a live-in nanny for three boys in Minnesota.
*****
It's one of those nights when I want to do a million different things, but I just don't have the emotional strength to do anything else but listen to my Marty Goetz CD and write in here. Yet now I don't even know if I want to do that. I just want to crawl into bed and get a good rest.
God has been drawing me closer to Him lately. It's painful and refreshing at the same time. I crave His fellowship, His comfort, His presence SO much, but it almost feels overwhelming to try and maintain a relationship with one so holy. I have MUCH of my life to work on. And I fail daily. But it's not God's fault, it's mine. It's me indirectly telling Him that I want my other gods more than I want Him. Yet there are times that I have ups and downs with human relationshiops--parents, brother, friends, and others. I start out with a season when I put all my energy into the person, whoever it is, and then when I get physically, mentally, emotionally, or even spiritually exhausted, I dwindle. It goes from everything to nothing, all for entirely selfish reasons, as I can reasonably evaluate.
Inconsistency seems to be the story of my life. The only thing that is consistent is that I thrive off a single-task life. I shudder at the thought of having to multi-task. That's probably why I get frustrated with the Sweeney boys if they need help while I'm sweeping the floor. Or if one of them makes a huge mess while I'm working with one of the other boys. I feel like I have to stop what I'm doing and fix the mess before I can continue. Interruptions throw me off BIG time.
I think it's the same way with people and the events surrounding my relationships. Only if it is convenient, will I put my heart and soul into showering my attention, care, and concern on those I love. If I get busy with a new project, or if I meet a new friend, another relationship might be quickly put on the back-burner. It is hard for me to give equal attention to each person that crosses my path, no matter how much I want to. It usually makes me sound like I'm saying, "I still like you, but please take a number and get in line. If you're lucky, you'll get a Christmas card this year."
I'm extremely convicted about this—-well, of course I am, or I wouldn't be going into it at such length. I do realize that GOD is not partial like that. He has millions of people simultaneously talking to Him all day long, and yet He gives undivided attention to and time for each individual whenever they want. Amazing. I understand that He is all-powerful Deity, but the concept is true. If God can give me His full attention at the drop of a hat, surely I can be there for the people in my life. Even when I think I can't make the time or when I don't feel like it. I certainly would want all of them to be there for me when I need them.
I figure if my relationship with God is on a steady course, then perhaps my relationships with others wouldn't suffer so. Because God is so faithful to me, I need to be faithful to others. And, most importantly, faithful to God.
Tuesday, April 6, 2004
Saturday, April 3, 2004
Passion Ponderings
This was my response after watching "The Passion of the Christ" when it first came to theaters.
*****
My viewing of Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ" left me with a deeper, richer understanding of the great price Christ paid to extend salvation to the spiritually dead. A higher appreciation for the sacrifice it took to remove the barriers of sin and grant mankind access to a holy and righteous God.
My post-movie reaction was one of amazement that my Savior would not concede, but CHOOSE to endure such barbarous torture and abuse for the sake of evil-hearted, self-seeking individuals, all of whom are sinners of equal measure, and of whose existence spans every racial, generational, and geographic category; past, present, and future.
The concept that struck me with even greater intensity is that within God's vast and incomprehensible redemptive plan, He saw it pleasing and purposeful to include ME. The passion--or suffering--of Jesus Christ was not merely a result of a cruel injustice that might evoke within the heart of the viewer a sense of compassion or sympathy toward the undeserving victim, but to a recipient and beneficiator of the forgiveness and grace of His shed blood, the passion very personally demonstrates the ultimate act of Christ's sacrificial love.
Yes, it is true that Jesus suffered such physical, emotional, and spiritual affliction in general, on behalf of all mankind and, efficatiously (specifically), to all who will accept Him. Yet it is the responsibility of every believer to realize HIS OWN virtual participation in the process of His death. It was I who hammered the nails into Christ's hands and feet. At the same time, it was also I who became His victorious reward for those same nails.
Every agony He endured--every insult, every mocking, every lashing, every piercing, every step up Calvary's hill--was for me.
Pointing fingers at specific "Christ killers" or generalizing the fault of His death to the whole world certainly holds a sense of credibility. Also, we must recall that Christ's death was in God's redemptive plan long before the foundations of the world. The people who killed Him were actually carrying out God's will, whether they knew it or not! However, by neglecting to personalize the passion of Jesus, I diminish my vicarious presence among them. For them it was a physical act; for me, it was spiritual. MY SIN was inflicting Jesus during those agonizing twelve hours.
I need to spot my form among the merciless Jewish crowd, demanding crucifiction. I need to trace my name carved into His horribly beaten back at the scuring block. And at the foot of the brutal Roman cross, I must force myself to listen for my own voice sneering at the sight of His bloody, broken body.
I was there...no more than anyone else, no less than if I was alone.
Somehow--through the grief and pain that I caused the only begotten Son of Almighty God--it was my very presence fixed to the mind and heart of Jesus that eventually led Him to extend a most precious verbal expression of love, "Father, forgive them...."
The weight of my sins alone should have caused the cross to sink to the deepest dwelling of hell, but before that could happen, Jesus uttered three mighty words, "It is finished!"
*****
My viewing of Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ" left me with a deeper, richer understanding of the great price Christ paid to extend salvation to the spiritually dead. A higher appreciation for the sacrifice it took to remove the barriers of sin and grant mankind access to a holy and righteous God.
My post-movie reaction was one of amazement that my Savior would not concede, but CHOOSE to endure such barbarous torture and abuse for the sake of evil-hearted, self-seeking individuals, all of whom are sinners of equal measure, and of whose existence spans every racial, generational, and geographic category; past, present, and future.
The concept that struck me with even greater intensity is that within God's vast and incomprehensible redemptive plan, He saw it pleasing and purposeful to include ME. The passion--or suffering--of Jesus Christ was not merely a result of a cruel injustice that might evoke within the heart of the viewer a sense of compassion or sympathy toward the undeserving victim, but to a recipient and beneficiator of the forgiveness and grace of His shed blood, the passion very personally demonstrates the ultimate act of Christ's sacrificial love.
Yes, it is true that Jesus suffered such physical, emotional, and spiritual affliction in general, on behalf of all mankind and, efficatiously (specifically), to all who will accept Him. Yet it is the responsibility of every believer to realize HIS OWN virtual participation in the process of His death. It was I who hammered the nails into Christ's hands and feet. At the same time, it was also I who became His victorious reward for those same nails.
Every agony He endured--every insult, every mocking, every lashing, every piercing, every step up Calvary's hill--was for me.
Pointing fingers at specific "Christ killers" or generalizing the fault of His death to the whole world certainly holds a sense of credibility. Also, we must recall that Christ's death was in God's redemptive plan long before the foundations of the world. The people who killed Him were actually carrying out God's will, whether they knew it or not! However, by neglecting to personalize the passion of Jesus, I diminish my vicarious presence among them. For them it was a physical act; for me, it was spiritual. MY SIN was inflicting Jesus during those agonizing twelve hours.
I need to spot my form among the merciless Jewish crowd, demanding crucifiction. I need to trace my name carved into His horribly beaten back at the scuring block. And at the foot of the brutal Roman cross, I must force myself to listen for my own voice sneering at the sight of His bloody, broken body.
I was there...no more than anyone else, no less than if I was alone.
Somehow--through the grief and pain that I caused the only begotten Son of Almighty God--it was my very presence fixed to the mind and heart of Jesus that eventually led Him to extend a most precious verbal expression of love, "Father, forgive them...."
The weight of my sins alone should have caused the cross to sink to the deepest dwelling of hell, but before that could happen, Jesus uttered three mighty words, "It is finished!"
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