music :: worship :: life
Are you married to God?
Is he your all in all?
Is he your everything?
Is he the center of your life?
Is your relationship with God the axis around which everything else revolves?
Are you married to God?
Or are you married to the world and having an affair with God?
Just getting a little God on the side?
Sneaking off to God in stolen moments here and there?
Looking over your shoulder, covering your tracks?
Making sure the world never suspects?
So are you married to God?
Or are you just fooling around?
A definition of Lectio Divina and a description of how I use it can be found on the following page: What is Lectio Divina?
We are the lost, the children of Adam and Eve,
groping for light in this dark, this fallen world.
We are a tough people, thick of skin and hard of shell.
For our own protection, we must be so.
But the very armor that protects us from the sins of this world
also shields us from the love of God which is in Christ.
Yet no armor is perfect: there are chinks.
Sooner or later, by chance, design, or circumstance,
someone finds those chinks and wounds us through them.
We are all of us wounded,
we are all of us scarred,
we are all of us broken,
battered,
bruised.
Our wounds are the openings through which Christ enters.
The love of God that is in Christ Jesus can only enter into us
through our brokenness,
through our woundedness.
Christ enters through those openings and inhabits those scars,
those bruises, those wounds.
He takes our wounds upon himself—
Our wounds become his wounds.
And only through our woundedness,
only through those openings created by our woundedness
do we become whole,
can become healed,
can we be restored to community
with God and with one another.
He is the healer of the brokenhearted. He is the one who bandages their wounds.
-Psalms 147:3He certainly has taken upon himself our suffering and carried our sorrows, but we thought that God had wounded him, beat him, and punished him. He was wounded for our rebellious acts. He was crushed for our sins. He was punished so that we could have peace, and we received healing from his wounds.
-Isaiah 53:4-5
Father, your presence in my life this week has been powerful—even overbearing, sometimes, and not always welcome. One thing you showed me is that I could give, and should give, and can afford to give much more—that I can tithe, and more than tithe. You were with me as I freed myself of piles of useless possessions that have been cluttering my life, holding me down, getting in my way. As I struggled with the disintegration of my plans for this past year, the same scripture showed up over and over again—in a book, in the sermon, in a DVD lecture, in an article online. Over and over again, the same scripture from Jeremiah 29:11:
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Your plans are not my plans. Your plans cannot be squeezed into some arbitrary timetable set by me—this year or that year, by this month or that.
You were present when a woman stayed behind to talk about the baby she lost 24 years ago, and how the hurt never really goes away. I sensed your presence, too, through the kindness of friends, through their conversation, their emails, their phone calls.
I sensed your presence as I wrote checks to the Salvation Army and other charities—how strange to be filled with joy at giving away money.
Father, you have shown me, through the course I completed, that my mind is still sharp and capable. God, you have shown me so much—that I have so much. I compare myself with the people around me who have so much more than I. Of the people I know, I am surely the poorest. Yet I have so much more than I need.
Heavenly Father, I did not sense your presence this week, and I was disheartened. I missed your presence, Father, walking beside me. I felt abandoned and alone. But events Sunday showed me that You had gone on ahead, clearing a path for me. Father, forgive me for doubting your faithfulness.
Father, I believe you have been reminding me of my own resourcefulness. Thank you for giving me the perseverance to carry on in your work even when I don’t sense you near. Like the parable, you entrusted me with talents to use in your service. Sometimes you simply say, “Do what you can with these, while you wait for my return. I have faith in you, my child.” Thank you, Father. Thank you, Lord. Thank you, thank you, thank you, so much.
Father, I confess to holding on to things that are unworthy of me. Keep me from clinging to things, vices, attitudes, and ideas that burden me in my walk with you. Father, rid me of impure thoughts and deeds. Free me from the sins of pride and envy, of lust and anger and greed and sloth. Eliminate the resentments and all the dark shadows in my heart that shut me off from the sunlight of your Spirit.
Father, I believe you are teaching me to trust in you even when I don’t feel you near. I believe you are saying, “I have rewards for you, my good and faithful servant. But it’s up to you to stay the course while I have gone on ahead.” You want me to keep pushing your work forward on my own while I wait for further instructions. You want me to persevere in your service. And I rejoice in the trust you place in me.
Father, I submit myself again to you with joy. I fall down before you in thankfulness and adoration, Please forgive me for all my sins, and please allow me to continue to serve you. I am honored beyond words by your love and faithfulness to me. Amen.
A definition of the Four Strand Garland and a description of how I use it can be found on the following page: What is the Four Strand Garland?
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