Drink deeply

And he went a little farther, and fell on his face,
and prayed, saying, O my Father,
if it be possible, let this cup pass from me:
nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt.
~ Matthew 26:39

In the Garden, Jesus prayed, “Let this cup pass from me.” Much has been written about the cup, and what it entails — the suffering involved with taking on all of mankind’s sins. But one day, as I was listening to one of my favorite worship songs, God showed me something new. In Kari Jobe’s song “The More I Seek You,” she says, “I want to sit at your feet, drink from the cup in your hand, lay back against you and breathe, feel your heart beat…”

Drink from the cup in your hand. It could mean many things — spiritual nourishment, for example. But the “cup” Jesus refers to is about suffering and temporary separation from the Father — in other words, the critical purpose of Jesus’ life. In order for us to come to a place so intimate that we can rest at the Lord’s feet, we need to be willing to drink from the cup He has for each of us. That doesn’t mean that we will necessarily have to suffer — some of us might, many of us won’t. But it does mean accepting what the Lord has for us.

He made each of us for a specific purpose. No one else could have fulfilled Jesus’ purpose. I can’t fulfill yours, and you can’t fulfill mine. But if we draw close enough to the Lord — if we offer ourselves to do God’s will, as Jesus did — then we will be drinking from the cup He has for us. We’ll be using our talents. Raising our kids with gentleness and kindness. Singing if we can sing, writing if we can write, loving, nurturing, praying, worshipping, hoping, helping, showing, shining. We’ll be drawing closer and closer to God, feeling more and more thankful that He drank from that cup 2000 years ago, understanding more and more clearly just what that meant. When He drank, He knew all that you would do, but He also knew what you are capable of overcoming. And who you are capable of becoming. He thought of you that day, overflowing with an unbelievable love for you. Yes, you. Honor Him today by accepting. Say, “Yes, Lord, I want what You have for me,” then drink. Deeply and fully and thirstily. Every last drop. You'll be glad you did.

I'm published... finally!

A couple months ago, a dear friend said to me, "Do you think God gave you your talent? Do you think He made you to write?" Then she said the most profound thing ever: "What other justification do you need? WRITE!"

So I am. So I have been. And today my first article appears at Inside Indiana Business. The first of many, I hope... I have three faith essays that have been purchased by Kyria Digizine (one for the magazine and two for the website portion), the first of which will appear in May. And I've had an article accepted by the Upper Room devotional, and one by Internet Cafe Devotions.

Thanks to all of you who have encouraged me. It's happening :-).

Eraser

Pastor Nathan mentioned something last week that has really stuck with me. He said to look at the end of a pencil. Someone had the foresight to know we were going to make mistakes, so they put an eraser right there on the end of the pencil, nice and handy, ready to use when we mess up. God gave us an eraser, too — it's called repentance. Repent, and our sins are gone. Blotted out, erased, as if they were never there in the first place.

Leave it to God to use office supplies to speak to me.

Color-coded Christians

When I was in high school, I hated P.E. in any and all of its variations. Running? No thanks. Archery. Not my thing. Square dancing? Don’t even ask. But the worst segment of all? Swimming. What evil tyrant decided it was a good idea to put developing teens of both sexes in the same room, half-naked and dripping wet? It wasn’t an attraction issue – I don’t remember thinking anyone looked particularly good. All I remember is fretting that I looked really bad. And I’m sure I did. Insecurities run high, especially in women, and particularly in young, hormonal girls — and in any female in a swimsuit. To add insult to injury, my school provided the swimsuits. Color. Coded. By. Size. As if I didn’t feel self-conscious enough, I had to request a red suit – which meant extra large. (To be fair, one of the small sizes was also red, but there was a substantial enough difference that no one would confuse the two.) And to add insult to injury, most of the suits were outrageously stretched out from the other extra large parts most of the bigger girls had. Unfortunately, I did not, so I had to tie the straps together in back with my shoelace to keep the suit from falling off.

Some people dread coming to church as much as I dreaded swimming class, certain that everyone can spot their sins, convinced that the “churchy folk” are pointing at them saying, “She had an affair,” or “He was arrested,” or [fill in the blank]. We have trouble believing that our sins wouldn’t matter. We have trouble seeing ourselves for who we really are because we have accepted the enemy’s lies about us. We say we have faith but perhaps we don’t really believe God forgave us as He said He would. When we allow our self-identities to be defined by what we’ve done wrong, we’re essentially walking into church in color-coded suits. Adulterer? Scarlet. Addict? Green. But that’s not what church is about. As a member of God’s church, we must be careful not to “color code” those who walk in the door. It’s not our place to assign someone a category, to assume we know who they are because we know what they’ve done.

And, more important, it’s not how God functions. He says though our sins are as scarlet they will be white as snow. When we repent, when we truly understand that our behavior is preventing us from being as close to God as we could be, when we are willing to turn away from what is hindering us, then we can be confident when we approach the Lord. We can come together with God’s people, free of judgment, free of condemnation. Knowing we’re clothed in garments of righteousness, assured of our identities as children of the King, and able to stand tall and confident and without shame before Him.