Archive for September, 2015

And as He stands in victory,
Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me;
For I am His and He is mine—
Bought with the precious blood of Christ.

No guilt in life, no fear in death—
This is the pow’r of Christ in me;
From life’s first cry to final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny.

The fascinating truth about repeating the same prayers and songs on a daily basis is that they have this tendency to either become stale and trite or be consistently revealing and connecting. Unfortunately, we more often fall into the trap of the former, allowing ourselves to think that rote and memory are only equated with lifelessness and meaninglessness. But over the past few years I’ve been slowly training myself to have the mindset of the latter, seeing and reveling in the beauty of new connections.

Fairly recently, I’ve added to the prayers and songs of my morning routine the 21st century hymn penned by Keith Getty & Stuart Townend – In Christ Alone.

I find it beautiful; its truths profound, gripping and revealing. It is also easy to learn and is quite hum-able while blowing one’s hair dry, doing a sinus rinse or brushing one’s teeth in the morning.

I find that humming the tunes allows me to mentally focus and reflect on the words.

This morning one line in particular struck a chord deep within me.

Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me.

Instead of simply singing it with joy and victory and simple acknowledgment of its glorious truth like usual, I suddenly found myself asking,

“what does it mean that sin’s curse has lots its grip on me?”
“what does it mean to lose grip?”

Then in my mind an image appeared: a daughter. broken shackles. yet still in the cell.

And somewhere I heard the echoes of Jesus’ call: “Follow me!”

And suddenly they connected.
And I saw the beauty of the call in the movement it creates.

The scene continued to play out in my mind’s eye… how we are there in our brokenness, sitting in our own filth, and even though the lock on the shackles has been sprung, still we allow them to remain on us. Were we to move away from our spots, we would realize that they can no longer hold, they have lost their grip!

But we have grown up in these chains and have become accustomed to this limited way of moving about. In so many ways this is our norm. The chains have some length to them so that we thought we had freedom to walk and play about, not realizing how restricted our movements really were. We didn’t notice how the chains hindered our movements, weakened our muscles and constricted us into warped, awkward, stiff and often painful modes of moving. This mode of being was what we knew… how we perceived… what we thought was normal.

So when the crucified Jesus – who took our brokenness, our filth and our chains upon himself – resurrected from the dead, the locks were sprung. His sacrifice carried all our sins and meant forgiveness for us from those sins. Sin’s curse has lost its grip.

But so often we miss it. And that is where the grace and beauty of the call comes in.

For when we respond to Jesus’ call of “follow me”, we begin to move again. We begin to walk. And as we follow where He leads we see that the shackles do not grip us any longer and we are no longer bound by those chains. We experience a new freedom and a new world and a new life past the chains, past the cell. We begin to see that what we thought was normal was so limited, restricted, dark and harmful.

And because our muscles have atrophied and we have learned warped and awkward ways of moving about, sometimes we stumble. Especially at first. It is hard to break old habits. It takes a while to rebuild muscle. And though simply standing and beginning to walk away from sitting in mud and muck will cause much of it to fall off, all brokenness and filth that we lived in for so long doesn’t just roll off immediately.

But that’s where the grace and beauty of the call continue. For again and always Jesus calls, “follow me” and the continual movement and the obedience of following as he leads keeps us going. And he will teach us new ways to walk and run and dance and think and move. He will call us to water and nourishment and places to get scrubbed clean and give us new clothes. The restoration happens as we follow Jesus.

The New Testament speaks often of the loss of the power and grip of sin and the “old life” and of walking with Jesus and discovering and living in freedom, in the light and a “new life”. But when I sat down to open the pages of scripture after the new connections during my morning getting-ready routine, it was Colossians 2 to which I turned. Probably because I had just inched my way through that book this past spring and its words and imagery were still fresh in my mind.

Two short selections for you here (but read the whole chapter here) – Italics are mine for emphasis:

When you were dead in your transgressions and the uncircumcision of your flesh, He made you alive together with Him, having forgiven us all our transgressions, having canceled out the certificate of debt consisting of decrees against us, which was hostile to us; and He has taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross. When He had disarmed the rulers and authorities, He made a public display of them, having triumphed over them through Him. (vv. 13-15)

Therefore as you have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him, having been firmly rooted and now being built up in Him and established in your faith, just as you were instructed, and overflowing with gratitude (vv. 6-7)

As Jesus stands in victory, sin’s curse has truly lost its grip.
And Jesus does indeed command my destiny.

And still again and always the call is to follow Jesus.
And what grace and beauty in that call!

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chaos and waiting

And still, the waiting is the hardest.

Over and over as a child, when I was working on beading or untangling Christmas lights or other such tedious tasks, my mother would remark incredulously, “you’ve got a lot of patience!”

But I still don’t have nearly enough. One of the quirks of my OCD tendencies is this revulsion of disorder, flux, chaos. And that is where I find myself as I await the final results of my Lyme test and next month’s allergy testing. So much depends on those results which will bring both answers to questions and change involving healing processes, solutions, more problem-solving and learning to adjust once again to my body’s quirks. And none of it instant.

Because of research, observation & connections and the words of various doctors, I am fairly certain of at least part of the outcome of my allergy testing. And being the type of person who would rather make environmental and lifestyle changes (especially that get at the root of the issue) than piling on more and more meds (especially when they mostly just cover up symptoms), I foresee a great many changes coming to my life and living space.

And though I know it makes sense to await the official results (because the anticipated change will take so much time, effort, energy and money), right now it is rather driving me batty.

I am in the midst of cleaning (yay for two weeks in a row!) and I have to restrain myself from diving into my anticipated purge while I clean. After all, it would take time I don’t have right now and I have no where yet to put stuff.

But even more so is the emotional toll. It was just this past winter that I finally got my small living space to a settled place after 2015’s purge and clean. And now I’m considering and even more drastic change and purge, the process of which will take a lot of letting go and a little bit of grieving. So there’s this part of me that simply wants to “get it over with” and get it to the next settled place with the few new things that are helping me deal with the loss of so many old ones…

I don’t like the chaos and the flux and the waiting.

Because it hurts.
And it’s hard.

But that’s okay.
Somehow in the grand scheme of things, hurt and difficulty have value.

They are not “for naught.”

So I will remind myself to slow down.
And wait.
And trust.
And be patient.

And you know what? Perhaps these weeks until the final results come in can be spent finishing up some of those other purge-like elephants I hadn’t gotten to yet that will help the anticipated new change in the long run?

And perhaps I can use the time to more fully appreciate the way things are here now.
Before learning to fully appreciate the way things will be later.

To be present in each moment.
Even in the chaos and the waiting.

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