I have to confess that I haven't been in the habit of pouring myself over Scripture and contemplating its profundity; but lately my interest in understanding Scripture has been sparked. I almost always journal each Sunday so that I can capture what the pastor is saying and honestly it helps me pay attention. I was like the opposite of most students back in college where kids would bring their computers or their notebooks to have an escape so that if class got really boring, they could have an "escape"; I actually bring my journal to focus. My journal is where I explore, where I find myself, where I find God and where my thoughts go from foggy anxieties and to-do lists to deep, intense thoughts that usually point me to the throne of my Maker. I can't say they always do that- there are many times my journal is just my outlet of raw emotions that would mortify me if anyone actually read- but do I have some of my most fluid thoughts here.
Journaling and worshiping in song are two of the most cathartic practices I have ever experienced. Suddenly my heart is softened and I'm able to hear God more clearly and understand more profoundly. I am confessedly a charismatic Presbyterian if there ever was such a thing. I don't mean speaking in tongues, but I do mean belief that the Spirit almost always evokes some sort of emotion and I am learning how to embrace that and even express that unashamedly!
I am grateful for times when the gospel truly does taste sweeter and sweeter. I cannot claim that my walk is a forever-improving, path of infinite bliss. Surely it is not! In fact most (inlcuding my husband) would say my general temperament is more closely aligned to Eeyore than Jesus! (Sad to say!) BUT- I can sense in those intimate moments when we are singing a hymn where the words are so rich and the meaning is so so deep that I am shaken to the core.
O Love that will not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.
O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.
O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.
I am constantly encouraged by hearing the Word preached at our church. The pastors do such a tremendous job of pointing us to Scripture and reminding us that His Word is more precious that silver or gold. The pastor gave a neat analogy today of the goldminers during the Gold Rush and how they were men of common jobs (not outdoorsmen with no training in survival) who put 100 lb. packs on their back, hiked 20 miles in steepening elevations that were thousands of feet high, risking their very lives for a chance at being rich. Not a guarantee. A CHANCE. The number that actually made the trek was large compared to the percentage that got rich. And all for what? Just a chance at making it big. Do we as Christians treat God's revealed will in His Word as that gold? Is that our treasure? Would we hike miles for it? I was convicted for sure. It reminded me of the Bibleless peoples that Wycliffe and many other Christian organizations are tirelessly sacrificing to reach. My former boss one time did a devo that made a comparison of how many Bibles we have sitting around the house while there are indigenous groups dying without access to God's Word. It really made me think of how much we take God's Word for granted. There are many being persecuted for their desire to serve God, know God, want His Word in their language. It was convicting for sure.
Do we, here in the U.S., count God's wisdom as more precious than gold?
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