a restored soul

Annie Dillard once wrote: "You do not have to sit outside in the dark.  If, however, you want to see the stars, you will find that darkness is necessary.  But the stars neither require nor demand it."

Which reminds me of the words I pray every Sunday from Psalm 23: "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures.  He leads me beside still waters.  He restores my soul."  It's as if God is saying: "You don't have to lie down in green pastures and sit beside still waters.  If, however, you want to have your soul restored, you will find that they are necessary."  

That's probably why he "makes us" lie down and "leads us" beside, because he knows that we typically won't do those things by ourselves.  We're too busy responding to demands and expectations, getting things done, and making things happen.  I mean, who has time to "lie down" or "sit beside," right?

The problem is that if we don't make time and space to do those two things, our souls will dry up and die, which is why we need to have our souls "restored" in the first place.  The word for soul, in the Hebrew, comes from one of the words for breath.  Which means that the soul is that place where God breathes his life-giving breath into us.  If we don't make time and space for God to breathe his divine breath into us, we have nothing of value or substance to breathe out upon the world around us.  We can't live in a constant exhale; we must learn how to inhale.  God wants to restore his divine breath in us.  

Which brings us back to "making us lie down in green pastures" and "leading us beside still waters."  Those two practices are a major part of soul restoration.  So, take a few minutes today and follow the Good Shepherd to those green fields and those still waters.  You won't regret it.  In fact, it will give you life and joy and love and peace.  It will restore your soul.

abide in my love

“As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you.  Abide in my love.” (John 15:9) 

I can think of no better definition of prayer than simply to abide in His love.  The word abide means to stay, remain, or live in.  It is a continual state of being; a beautiful combination of presence, attention, and affection. 

To abide in his love—in prayer—means to sit in his divine embrace and allow his love, his affection, and his delight to capture our hearts and transform our lives.  Maybe that’s what Paul meant when he told us to pray without ceasing.  That we would, at every moment of every day, bask in the light and warmth of his presence and let it consume us to the point where we are one with him.  Which is the perfect description of the relationship between Jesus and his Father.

abide in my word

“If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” (John 8:31-32) 

When we are taught to read in school, we are taught to read in a certain way—informationally.  Reading informationally means that the goal is to read as much as possible, as fast as possible, in order to master the material.  In terms of reading the Bible, this is a good thing.  It leads to us knowing about God, and we can never know enough things about God.

But when it comes to knowing God, we must read a little differently.  We must begin to read for formation rather than just for information.  In other words, we must learn to not just read the word and study the word, but we must learn to abide in the word and listen to the word and meditate on the word.  That's when what is in the mind moves into the heart, which is how transformation takes place.  At that point, instead of us trying to master the word, the word comes to master and form us.  We begin to hear God’s voice in his word in a deep and personal way.  We begin to let the word live in us and move in us and grow in us.  Thus, the Bible ceases to be merely a textbook and becomes a series of love letters, telling one beautiful love story.

abide in me

“Abide in me, and I will abide in you.  As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me.  I am the vine; you are the branches.  Whoever abide in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” (John 15:4-5)

When you abide in Christ, what do you do?”  It’s a question we all had, but he was the only one courageous enough to ask it.  He asked it of a wise old nun who was leading a group of us through a day of prayer and silence at a convent near Seattle.  We had all spent the day together and were debriefing with each other about our time.

“You don’t do anything,” the wise saint replied.  And then, seeing the confusion on his face, she added, “Think of it as the silent embrace of two lovers.”  And suddenly we all got it.

That is the beauty and the mystery and the intimacy of the relationship Jesus invites us into.  It’s the same relationship he shares with the Father and the Spirit, and he invites us into their Great Round Dance of Love.  That is how the life of the Spirit produces fruit in us and through us.

clinging

“My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.” (Psalm 63:8) Clinging to anyone or anything other than God can get us in trouble really quick.  Because clinging to people, things, or experiences is almost always a result of fear.  And fear makes us the worst version of ourselves. 

We cling to life because we are afraid of death.  We cling to others because we’re afraid of being alone.  We cling to achievements because we’re afraid of being insignificant.  We cling to affirmation and compliments because we’re afraid of being worthless.  We cling to attention and affection because we're afraid we're not worthy of being loved.

But when we cling to God alone, he sets us frees from need and sets us free to love.  For we cannot love freely when we are always trying to extort love out of others.  When we cling to God alone, he enables us to love like he loves.

open hands

it's not until

you're clinging 

to nothing

that God

ends up being

your everything

born from above

“I tell you the truth, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless he is born of water and the Spirit.  Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit.  You should not be surprised at my saying, ‘You must be born from above.’” (John 3:5-7)

Born from above; what a loaded phrase!  No wonder Nicodemus was dumbfounded.  I mean, how is that even possible? 

But of course, Jesus was talking about much deeper things than mere physics.  He was talking about spiritual transformation.  He was talking about how a life is changed, which always seems to involve some sort of new birth—leaving behind our old ways of being and seeing in order to live and see anew. 

The hard part, both for us and for Nicodemus, is that it’s not a process we can control.  We can no more control the renewal of our hearts and souls than we can control the day we are born.  It is all up to God.  It is a work of the Spirit, not something we can manufacture, manipulate, or control.  Flesh can only give birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit. 

Thus, we must be born of water and the Spirit; it involves both a cleansing and a renewal.  And Jesus is the only one who can do both of those things, all we can do is receive and respond.

It’s what Ezekiel had written about over five hundred years beforehand: “I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you from all your impurities and from all your idols.  I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.  And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.” (Ezekiel 36:25-27) Notice how many times God says, “I will.”  It is he who produces this change, not us.

And it’s also something Paul wrote about years later: “But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy.  He saved us through the washing of rebirth and the renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior.” (Titus 3:4-6) The two parts of being born from above are cleansing and renewal, both of which are totally up to God.

Maybe that’s the part Nicodemus struggled with the most.  Maybe he was simply unwilling to surrender his life and his knowledge and his position and his history to God and start all over again.  Maybe he was unwilling to let go of control and become a child again. 

And maybe that’s what you and I struggle with as well.  Surrender is not an easy thing; it takes the ball out of our hands and puts it squarely and wholly in the hands of God.