Yesterday I sat with my Bible and journal in my lap feeling feeble. When I’m away from the Word, it hinders me from seeing Truth. Every day I spend elsewhere is like ignoring a close friend; it rattles the relationship. And when I do return, I flip through the pages with a sense of foreign touch. What is this Book, really?
So I sat there. Partly expecting a moment of revelation, I thought maybe I would be hit with a moment of “knowing”. That the place to read in this precious text would simply float into my mind as though God Himself put it there. But no such thing happened. No revelation. I stared at my Bible tabs and flipped to Habbakuk. I read the first chapter, thought on it. But I wasn’t present. The holiness of my Father’s words were not monumental, and I surely wasn’t impressed. I felt my stomach hit the floor, and I felt it again and again: I feel like I’m failing You, Papa.
It’s been a long time. I wish I could convincingly blame my lackluster approach to Jesus on having three kids, but I don’t want it to be that simple, and I don’t want that to be my out. I don’t want an out to exist when it comes to Jesus. I have simply traded Truth for lies, and the greatest liar of all has been feeding me poison over and over, tricking me in my vulnerability in the chaos of three children. I’m kicking him to the curb today, in case you wanted to know.
So I sat there, skimming through a small book of the Bible, waiting on God to just show up for me already. I had made the effort! I opened the Word. I read some of it. But I was still clouded, not living fully alive in Truth, and trying to push away His loving embrace. This is how it is though, right? God doesn’t show up every time, right? I shouldn’t need to be radically changed everyday by the same thing, right? Right?
Do you think that? I have. Yesterday, I did. I wasn’t radically transformed at the moment because I didn’t want to be. I wanted to stay in the comfort of lukewarm belief and mild love. I didn’t care to be lifted off the ground and shifted by grace again and again and again. But I should be. The Truth of the gospel should radically change me every single day. It should hit me in the face and in the heart that I deserve to pay for my sin, but that I am pardoned by a loving, merciful God. It should rock me to the core that I am deeply loved and deeply known. It should be remembered, and rightfully so, that it is God who is always showing up and us who are always ignoring His peaceful heart.
I got bold in my prayer and asked Him to speak, because I needed to be knocked off my feet by Truth. I need the wind in my sails to be shifted and the beating in my chest to strengthen. I needed my Papa to show me His power so I could defeat the grave again.
Where you search for Me, you will always find Me. But you have to actually look for me. Don’t just haphazardly enter My presence and expect transformation. Don’t reservedly open the Word and expect Truth to be piercing and loud in your sin. I have never left. I have never stopped. But you have. You get in the way of glory and grace. My love is never ceasing, yet you behave as though I am reluctant. I am a jealous God. I want you. I love you. Your faults may seem detrimental, but don’t you realize that I already perfected you? My blood is on you, and I declare you Mine. Take My words to the world, not your own. Your words do nothing. My words move mountains. Watch Me.
And I watched Him. My eyes are fixed on You, Papa, for I can now see mountains move.