"Like a weaned child is my soul within me." Psalm 131:2
If my soul really is my life-breath, the way the saints and scholars say it is, then the big question becomes, where am I trying to draw my life-breath from? From God, the sole source of that breath, or from other people, places, and things? If it is from others, then I am never going to be the non-anxious presence in this world that God wants me to be because I will constantly be worried about where my next breath is coming from.
O Lord, help me to always draw my life-breath from you.
"One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek: That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his kingdom." ~Psalm 27:4
"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want." He is everything I need; I can rest secure in his love and care. I need not fear; I can be at peace. He holds me close in his strong and tender arms and carries me close to his heart. He will never let me go.
So, lie down, my soul, in his green pastures. Sit beside his still and quiet waters. Let him breathe his divine breath into you and restore you. Let him give you the life and the rest you so desperately need.
And always remember, there is a big difference between reading about it or talking about it and actually doing it. Do it! Don't just read about it. Take his word into the depths of your soul and let him bring it to life. Let him make it a reality. Let it enter into you as you enter into it and find your rest in him. God beyond information to formation.
what the eyes of youth cannot
see
the wisdom of age begins to
understand
living with clenched fists is
no life at all
just an exercise in futility
and hubris
life is not about writing our
own story
not about blazing or own trail
not about making a name for
ourselves
but about stretching out our
hands
about understanding where we
fit
in His story—open handed
trusting and fully surrendered
about making His name great
it was never about me
but always about Him
“Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs.” (Jonah 2:8) God keeps trying to give us grace, but we refuse to let go of our worthless idols—our own plans and agendas. So, just like with Jonah, God has to take extreme measures to open us up to the grace he is trying to give us.
Oftentimes, this comes through disruption. He hurls us into the deep, a place of dependence and desperation, trying to pry open or tightly clenched fists from our own places of comfort and familiarity. Sadly, even then we still try to cling to our worthless idols of strength and self-sufficiency, until finally we arrive at a place of total surrender.
So maybe we should embrace the disruption instead of fighting it. Maybe we should open our hands and our hearts and receive the grace God is trying to give us. When we walk with Jesus, disruption is often an invitation. In the words of Albert E. Day, “For into the vacuum created by the destruction of human pride and self-sufficiency, pours the fullness of God.” How can we be full of God when we are so full of ourselves?
It reads like a poem. Because we know, all too well, exactly what he means. He’s talking to us too. The things that bind us and keep us from the life he desires for us must be removed and left behind. Yes, he has raised us from death to life and brought us out of the tomb, which is glorious indeed, but still there is work to be done in order for us to live fully and freely. Walking with God in newness of life means leaving the grave clothes behind.
Is it possible to live fear-free? Is that what faith is really all about? Or is faith the ability to live in trust despite our fears?
If we were to eliminate fear altogether, where is the ongoing need for faith? Where is our sense of dependence on God? The constant tension and struggle between fear and faith seems to be necessary for growth.
“When I’m afraid, I will trust in you,” say the words of the ancient prayer. And the when seems to be a significant part of the picture. We are going to be afraid. The key is to not let fear consume and control us. To not let it force us into creating worst case scenarios and spinning false narratives about ourselves, our loved ones, or others in our lives and world. Fear can either drive us to control, manipulation, and dysfunction (among other things) or it can drive us to Jesus.
When we start to think we are more deserving of the attention, affection, recognition, or renumeration that others are getting, we need to pay careful attention. Because we are falling into the trap of comparison, which never turns out well in terms of the kingdom.
On the one hand, we see people we don’t think we’re as good as, which makes us incredibly insecure. And on the other hand, we see people that we think we’re better than (sadly) but who are getting more recognition, affection, or renumeration than we are, which makes us frustrated, envious, and jealous. It’s a no-win game.
So, Jesus comes along and tells a story (Matthew 20:1-16) to show us what kingdom living is really all about. And the point of the story is this: In the kingdom of God the first are last and the last are first. Walking with God is not about jockeying and posturing, but about going to the back of the line. It’s about lifting others above ourselves. It’s about celebrating others, not competing or comparing. At the back of the line is where we will find Jesus.
So, try reading Matthew 20:1-16 and see where you find yourself in this story. Ask God what he wants to say to you about it. It might surprise you like it did me.
Lord Jesus, help us to know the beauty and the joy of making ourselves last, less, and least.
when i am finally okay
with not being okay
then i am truly free
when i’ve received the
forgiveness you offer me
and offer it to others in
return
i can finally forgive myself
and not be stuck any
longer
in the gravitational pull of
my own faults and blunders
i can finally break free
from the chains that bind
and hold me back from
the life i was made for
i can soar into the heavens
on the winds of your breath
forgiven and forgiving and
free
“Our soul waits for the Lord.” (Psalm 33:20, ESV)
Waiting for the Lord is a key aspect of walking with God. He is the one who sets the tone, the pace, and the agenda, not us. Thus, waiting for the Lord teaches us to walk with him and not charge ahead of him.
Somehow, however, waiting has become synonymous with doing nothing or with nothing happening. But nothing could be further from the truth. We don’t wait because nothing is happening; we wait because something is already happening. God is at work and we are just trying to hold space for him to do what only he can do.
Therefore, waiting is not passive but active. It requires being fully present and paying careful attention. It is about trust and openness and yieldedness. It is about surrendering our will and our ways to him.
Waiting for the Lord is not about disengagement, but about engagement of the highest order. It is not about disconnection, but deep, intimate connection. It is not about enduring God’s absence but engaging his presence.
Waiting is where transformation takes place. It’s not about trying to transform ourselves, it’s about him forming his very life within us. Waiting is life in the cocoon, the womb, the tomb, the belly of the whale. It’s where our life ends and his life within us, among us, and through us begins.
But what does it look like to submit to God? The Greek word (hypotassō) used here by James gives us a great clue. It means to station yourself under. When we submit to God, he becomes the point. Life is not about us anymore, it’s about him. He leads and we follow. He, and not us, becomes the center of the universe around which everything revolves. Our lives are completely under his rule and his reign.
“So let God work his will in you,” says The Message translation of James 4:7-10. “Yell a loud no to the Devil and watch him make himself scarce. Say a quiet yes to God and he’ll be there in no time. Quit dabbling in sin. Purify your inner life. Quit playing the field. Hit bottom, and cry your eyes out. The fun and games are over. Get serious, really serious. Get down on your knees before the Master; it’s the only way you’ll get on your feet.”
O God, forgive me when I try to rule and run my own life. I am terrible at it. Teach me what it means to submit to you and give me the grace and the strength and the courage to do it.
But sadly, we say, “We will not walk in it.” We refuse to stop. We refuse to stand. We refuse to look. We refuse to ask. And we refuse to walk in your way. Somehow, we have come to believe that our way is better. And, thus, we miss out on the beauty and the life and the rest that you have prepared for us. Is there a greater temptation in all of life than the temptation to try and do it on our own?
O Lord, my God, help me not to jump to walk before I’ve stopped and stood and looked and asked. For only then will I experience the soul rest I so deeply need and desire.
Our resistance to rest is both baffling and fascinating. Who in their right mind would “have none of it?” Why in the world would we say, “No,” and run off to follow our own agendas, plans, and devices. Is it all ego? Are we so full of ourselves that there is no room for God? Are we so determined to make a name for ourselves that we would risk all in doing so? Are we so dead set on becoming a flagstaff on a mountaintop that we would sacrifice all that is good and holy to get there?
Do we really believe that we are what we do? Are we really convinced that we are who people say or think we are? Do we really believe that our worth and value are determined by our successes and achievements? Do we really believe that stopping and resting is only for the weak? It would certainly appear so.
But the truth is that in returning and rest is our salvation and in quietness and trust is our strength. It is God who determines all those things, not us. All we have to do is be who and what he made us to be. The rest is up to him.
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.
“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.
“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)
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, 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.
