Mrs. Christ

Mrs. Christ. Sounds almost blasphemous doesn't it? Sort of has a ring to it, oh but it comes with too high a cost, too much responsibility, too many thoughts left for tending.

Perhaps then, we see it better if we call it something else entirely. Something less. For the connotations of Mrs. Christ dare not digress in time, to anything less than all the name initially implied.

So we reduce responsibility, lose the name, develop some form of routine, one that requires a mere weekly attendance, one that promises not to spill into the rest of our lives, leaving room for Sunday afternoon football, and every where in between to fill with as much as we can squeeze. Because in America, busyness equals success, does it not? Between driving kids to soccer practice, keeping the house in order, cramming for exams, applying for med school, babysitting the little brother, working 9-5, and a little bit of down time, we are doing good to add to the attendance of Sunday morning's service. Oh, but the preacher tried to cram two sermons into one this week, and the person to the right of me keeps staring at the time and I can't help but take a peek for myself and shake my head as my day off ticks away. Not to mention the praise team has had noticeably less rehearsal time this morning, and the bass guitarist is yawning about four minutes into the "slow" song of the morning. I'm dozing off but somehow miraculously gain back any depleted energy as soon as the ending prayer is tied together with an amen.


Please don't get me wrong, I love church. In fact, I would have to be self-destructive if I didn't. I am the church. WE are the church. The above paragraphs were not written to destruct the heart or even structure of the way the general American church is operated. It was a simple attempt to shed some light on what an outside perspective looking in might deem as utterly ridiculous.

What if we as the church began calling ourselves Mrs. Christ? Bear with me for a second as I take you on a hypothetical journey.

What if instead of waiting for the worship leader to lead us into worship, we went willingly and ready, because we already had a week to prepare ourselves to enter the Presence of God? What if instead of the worship leader focusing on a performance and a strategy that will hopefully lead the church into worship, the worship leader just focused on worshiping himself?

What if instead of waiting to be fed by the pastor, grasping for something sustaining, for the weeks are long and the Bread he offers only takes us so far, leaving us Spiritually dry by about Monday afternoon, we fed ourselves and were simply edified and encouraged by the truths the preacher confirms Sunday morning?

What if instead of holding fast to old tradition, clinging possessively to our elite small groups, asking ourselves what the kid with the tattoos that smelled like pot was doing in the back row, instead approached him with open arms and an extended invite to bring all of his friends?

What if the church was not just the building, or the band, or the preacher.  

What if the church was the people? 

And what if those people really were the Bride of Christ? 

What if Jesus was serious when He said He was coming back for a Pure Bride; that He really was preparing for us a room?

What if we weighed the costs and low and behold discovered the cost was worth it. 

What then?

Could we, as one Body, by the grace, and for the glory of our Savior, rise up essentially as Mrs. Christ?

What then? 

 Revelation 19:7-8, “For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and His Bride has made herself ready. Fine linen, bright and clean was given her to wear." 

”I know your works, your labor, your patience, and that you cannot bear those who are evil. And you have tested those who say they are apostles and are not, and have found them liars; and you have persevered and have patience, and have labored for My name's sake and have not become weary.

Nevertheless I have this against you, that you have left your first love.

Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent and do the first works, or else I will come to you quickly and remove your lamp-stand from its place — unless you repent.” 

Revelation 2:2-5

Yesterday's Manna

A thought came to me this morning during my time with the Lord: I cannot feed today on yesterday's manna. I realize that I am often guilty of this concept. When I am doing well, when I have prayed a good prayer, read some good verses, did a good deed, I tend to coast on my "Christian successes" and cut myself slack in other areas. But this, in effect, is somehow in someway an attempt to justify or earn my right standing with Christ. I am trying to deserve my salvation or grace with my own feeble efforts. As if what I have to offer is really enough to justify anything more than hell itself.

When I get to the place where I begin relying on my own strength, I will be fine for a while.

I need God's grace like I need air. Without it, I will be under the false pretenses that I am actually okay, until my deficiency kicks in. I can coast on my self-dependancy until my own strength eventually runs-out. But once it does, I am once again grasping for something sustaining, because my ability to escape sin was merely reliant on my own capabilities. 

I had another thought the other day that may have been a bench mark to putting my doubts into perspective. Either God is real or He isn't. There is no floating around in some obscure space. If I am going to believe He is real, then I better start living like He is real. That includes not just taking His Promises at face value. 

Either God is fully alive or He is nothing at all. There are too many self-proclaimed agnostics in this world. As if not knowing anything would somehow equate knowing something. As if teetering between two concepts or straddling two roads would somehow end in the same destination. I do this with myself. I question one aspect of God but claim to believe another. Either His Word is All powerful and all Truth or it is a complete and useless lies. To claim portions of God's Word and reject the rest is to spit in the face of God's sovereignty and credibility. 

May His Truth be presented unperverted and uncompromised in the hands it was carefully selected for, the church. May Christ return to a pure and untampered bride, proclaiming forth an uncorrupted and sharpened sword. 

Good Things Come

It had been a long, hard season. 

The crops were fickle and needed a lot of tending. Aside from that, the lands were vast this year, and we had been in a drought for months. Sometimes, when doubt overwhelmed me, I would question if my meager efforts would really pay off, or if the seed was incapable of producing fruit with such unfavorable conditions.

But today was unlike any other.I was awakened by the pitter patter of wet substance slapping the window pane. 

Sure enough, the dry and barren soil was submerged in a layer of "fertilizer." 

I was so engaged in the miracle, I didn't hear Papa come up behind me.

 "What do we do now?" I asked still staring in disbelief.

His answer was unsatisfying and reassuring all together, like the cool, piercing breeze that just swept over.  He smiled the smile of a proud farmer, who had finally smelt the harvest he had been sewing for a long season…

"We wait."

I believe the life of a Christ follower parallels the life of a devout farmer. There are three seasons that take place, continuously and devotedly.

1. The working season

2. The waiting season

3. Partaking of the harvest

I think many expect immediate reward after hard work. What they don't realize is it takes a lot more than our feeble hands to produce something worthy of a harvest. Like a farmer after months of intense labor, we are often called to a season of waiting before we are able to see the fruit of our efforts. It's through time, rain, and intense heat that produces the lasting crop.

During the waiting season it tends to rain a lot, but if you have been a farmer for long, you know this is a good thing, because it is grounds for producing the greatest growth. 

I am nearing the end of an arduous and labor-some season, and Papa's words keep ringing in my ears,

"Good things come to those who wait."

Simplicity

I found a cozy field near a cow pasture just outside CCM. I have been sneaking off to have my quiet times there. Dates with my Maker.

 The other day I brought paints and a canvas. Sometimes I journal; other times I just watch the cows graze and find peace in the simplicity of their life style. 

 

 I am learning about a joy not circumstance based,

a love unconditional,

an inner strength that thrives in outward weakness,

and a peace amidst the raging storm.

He is shaping me into the woman He created me to be.

"God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the hearts of man." 

Ecclesiastes 3:11

Deep Cries Out To Deep

"Who Is this who comes up from the Wilderness leaning upon her Beloved?" 

Song of Solomon 8:5

"Come away with me," the whisper was faint and overpowered by the noises around me, but so deep I felt it nudge the core of my spirit. "Why would I want to go away? Everything is fine where we are."  A thousand voices flooded my ears in that moment. I quickly became angry. "My family is here. My friends are here. My LIFE is here. No, I won't come away with you." The thoughts were half my own, the other half almost delivered to me like a baby being spoon fed its mashed carrots. Reluctant at first, I eventually gave in to the impending pressure of emotion rushing over me. First confusion, then frustration. "Who does He think He is? Requiring such an imposition on my behalf? What happened to 'I have plans to prosper you?' and 'I will give you the desires of your heart?'"

The thoughts were foreign to me at first. Absurd sounding in my own ears. The second voice came quieter than before, like a vapor that had faded into the vast expanse of atmosphere, creating but a wind chime ringing in my ears. "Come. I have something to show you."  Fear overwhelmed me in that moment as I considered the costs of his request. "NO." An eerie shriek rung violently in my head, much louder than the voices before. "You can't be trusted." Ah, were those words really my own? Even I felt the sting of the harsh exchange. I thought about it for a moment then resolved that it was all my imagination. Questions such as those would be reserved for the stronger leaders; those like Moses, David, Paul, Winston Churchill, Elizabeth Elliot, Francis Chan. Not me. An average, modern, American girl.

Which has me wondering if my response had been different, would I still be here now, having just spent the past months of my life lost in the wilderness, thirsty for water, hungry for food, desperate for some relief? Psalm 42:7 says as deep cries out to deep. I was a deer panting for the water brooks. I guess the only way to make a deer thirsty is to remove its original source of water. Take away the streams it worshiped. You said come to me you who are thirsty, weary, and heavy burdened. But I was reluctant that you could really be enough. 

One day soon I will peer the horizon from the mountaintops, seeing all I just came from, leaving me speechless that I was able to survive it. I was peering over the edge of a high mountain, only this time I was not alone. There was a thick and tangible presence encompassing me. I could not quite pinpoint the exact moment it appeared, but once it had, I could no longer remember or envision life without it.

The walk has been arduous. Painful. Tiresome. The Lord has taken me into the wilderness, away from the world, apart from my friends and family and the life I grew to idolize, to show me His heart. He couldn't do it in the world. No. The voices were too overpowering for His soft whisper. He brought me into the wilderness to make me unshakable. I had just come from slavery and was not yet ready to enter the Promised land. There had to be transition. A season of preparation to my new found freedom. I never dreamed of the heights I would reach, but it was only because of the depths I experienced with him.

So when you ask, "Who is this who comes up from the wilderness, leaning upon her Beloved? There under the apple tree I awakened you,"

You will know.

Disclaimor: Radical

 Today I was shaken by a message from God. The wording is a little messy, and my thoughts are a little scattered, but I felt a sense of urgency in sharing the convictions the Lord has placed so graciously and firmly on my heart. I am posting a disclaimer to anyone who desires to live a comfortable, Christian life. The more God reveals to me, the more I realize how much of a paradox that statement really is.

 God I want to know you.

I want God's plans if God's plans are what I want.
Jesus, I will do what it takes if what it takes is not too much.
I will speak on a stage to thousands of teens.
I will move to Hollywood to reach the lost.
I will write a dozen books about your love.
But what are the lengths I am willing to go?
I will marry a strong Christian man,
and raise two Christian children in church.
I will serve in my community and volunteer for different ministries.
I will adopt a little Chinese girl and even name her Amariah-gift from God.
I will go on Mission trips instead of vacations.
I will buy a meal for the homeless man on the street.
But what are the lengths I am willing to go?
Sure God, I will do your will.
But only if the cost is cheap, the road is easy, and the reward is great.
Of course God, I will follow you.
But only if it veers not far from the path I have already set out for my life.







 His response left me breathless. 


My child,
Will you follow me when the way is tough?
Will you follow me when the load gets heavy?
Will you follow me when the cost is great? Devastating?
Will you follow me if it requires a life of celibacy and a barren womb?
Will you follow me if it leads to persecution?
Will you follow me if your highest calling is the burning steak?
Will you follow me if it means not coming back?


Do you still want to know me?

Luke 9:23,24
Then He said to them all, if anyone would come after me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.  For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.

Luke 14:33
Unless you give up everything you own. You cannot become my disciple.

Dear Hollywood

 Somewhere down the line

We bought the devil’s lie

That we are broken beyond repair.

All she wanted was to be known.

But she gave her life up for the throne,

And everything she called her own.

She began pursuit of poise and fame

To bring herself a better name

But somehow ended up alone.

She gave it all for too small a cost

Seeking after all she’d lost

Not knowing how much she’d have to pay

She sacrificed her life her will,

For beauty, men, and dollar bills,

How quickly black does fade to grey.

Lost and broken, torn apart

They covered scars and called it art.

Was this the place of no return?

They took advantage and stripped away

Knowing what she’d have to pay-

As they all watched her burn.

Hollywood-God’s got a plan

Bigger than some one night stand

Or a drug that cannot fill

Forget all that you’ve been told

And trade your glitter for the gold

If you’ll just fight for something real

Hollywood-you hold the key

If you will simply bow your knee

And make known a name for a King

Hollywood-you’ll make it far

On more than just a fancy car

Or an empty diamond ring.

You’ve traded commitment for a fling

And wondered why you felt the sting

Of emptiness and pain

You’ve searched so long for something more

Than what you had to bargain for

And all you had to gain

Were empty bottles and broken dreams

Thinking you could seal the seams

With one enticing plea.

Oh Hollywood-when will you see

What it means to be truly free?