I have a thought which has been lying smoldering in my mind for at least a decade and which flares up now and again. This blaze sprung from the book of Malachi (and from the dark recesses of my sadly convoluted little mind). In summary, it is this: I do not want to be a lukewarm Christian.
Lately, I have begun to really realize the extent to which I am my greatest enemy. I always knew it, but it’s become more obvious these last couple of months. I feel kind of like I’ve got two opposing personalities (Gollum, anyone?). One part of me desires to desire to be passionate about God (no, that is not a typo). And the other part just doesn’t care. Or does care, but not enough. Actually, both sides don’t care enough. It’s very frustrating. One side of me wants to stand up to these sins that keep hindering me and blocking my path to God, and the other side is convinced that I will have more fun with my sins than with Christ. This side tends to think that serving Christ will be a burden—a thought which disconcerts my other side. One side is convinced I will never be brave enough, never be strong enough, never love God enough, never be the friend I want to be to Christ—and the other side is making an effort to disbelieve these convictions.
Here is what God, my Jesus has to say to me and to anyone else who may be struggling along these lines.
“Return to Me and I will return to you.” Malachi 3:7
“‘Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this’ says the Lord Almighty, ‘and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it.’” Malachi 3:10
If we give Him what is His due (what He deserves to receive whether we want to give it to Him or not) He has promised bless us with such awesome power and goodness. “Throw open the floodgates of heaven…pour out so much blessing that you will not have room for it.” I love it.
So, this is for all you who are going through this trying time of lukewarmness. Let’s work, strive, pray to be lifted up out of it. “[We] can do all things through Christ who strengthens us.” Philippians 4:13.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
A Soliloquy; Read and Be Amazed.
Can you spell mahogany?
Yes, but only with spell-check. Without spell-check, I would be nothing. I would be lost and doomed to stumble blindly about in a world of swirling mist. And if I stumbled about in a world of swirling mist I would be unable to see. Unable to find things. Which would tend to upset my delicate mental balance. I already can’t balance. It’s a shame, but it’s the truth. Maybe this is why I am afraid of heights? I also can’t open things—except for jars; I can open jars commendably using merely a combination of those sticky, grippy, jar-opening things and my God-given brawn. And perforated edges. I have a love-hate relationship with perforated edges. Who, I wonder, invented perforated edges? Who invented the word perforated? Noah Webster? Or is it Daniel Webster? One’s an orator and the other the dictionary-maker but I can’t for the life of me remember who’s who. Which is better, words or music? Words encompass everything, but music is so other-worldly. This question has been tormenting me for quite some time. This is the second biggest philosophical question of my life. I think it’s kind of neat how God has wired us to want to know. It shows how we’re made in His image. He knows. We yearn to know. There’s a parallel there. Parallels are pretty fabulous things. Like King Lear and Gloucester (pronounced gloss-ter, it has recently been determined. Actually, I’m not sure if it hasn’t been determined erroneously. Maybe it’s glouce, like louse. Hmm.). Being a director is tough. I feel bossy. When I was in elementary school, being bossy was like the worst possible sin you could commit. Where do these random memories come from? Why do certain smells trigger certain memories? My soap that I have now reminds me of the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. I couldn’t tell you why. Why does sugar taste good and algae taste bad? Algae has much less fat-potential. Why do my thoughts take so many strange digressions? Or is digression the correct word? Digression seems to have a negative connotation. The word connotation brings to mind Mr. Collins. Why have I not accomplished something with my day. Oh, dear, I forgot, my fish (Selkie) is in a temporary home waiting for the water to turn room temperature. He’s probably uncomfortable. I feel bad. I’ve got things to do, so I’ll stop now.
Yes, but only with spell-check. Without spell-check, I would be nothing. I would be lost and doomed to stumble blindly about in a world of swirling mist. And if I stumbled about in a world of swirling mist I would be unable to see. Unable to find things. Which would tend to upset my delicate mental balance. I already can’t balance. It’s a shame, but it’s the truth. Maybe this is why I am afraid of heights? I also can’t open things—except for jars; I can open jars commendably using merely a combination of those sticky, grippy, jar-opening things and my God-given brawn. And perforated edges. I have a love-hate relationship with perforated edges. Who, I wonder, invented perforated edges? Who invented the word perforated? Noah Webster? Or is it Daniel Webster? One’s an orator and the other the dictionary-maker but I can’t for the life of me remember who’s who. Which is better, words or music? Words encompass everything, but music is so other-worldly. This question has been tormenting me for quite some time. This is the second biggest philosophical question of my life. I think it’s kind of neat how God has wired us to want to know. It shows how we’re made in His image. He knows. We yearn to know. There’s a parallel there. Parallels are pretty fabulous things. Like King Lear and Gloucester (pronounced gloss-ter, it has recently been determined. Actually, I’m not sure if it hasn’t been determined erroneously. Maybe it’s glouce, like louse. Hmm.). Being a director is tough. I feel bossy. When I was in elementary school, being bossy was like the worst possible sin you could commit. Where do these random memories come from? Why do certain smells trigger certain memories? My soap that I have now reminds me of the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. I couldn’t tell you why. Why does sugar taste good and algae taste bad? Algae has much less fat-potential. Why do my thoughts take so many strange digressions? Or is digression the correct word? Digression seems to have a negative connotation. The word connotation brings to mind Mr. Collins. Why have I not accomplished something with my day. Oh, dear, I forgot, my fish (Selkie) is in a temporary home waiting for the water to turn room temperature. He’s probably uncomfortable. I feel bad. I’ve got things to do, so I’ll stop now.
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