pursuit and response

I'm slowly working my way through The Pursuit of God by A. W. Tozer. It's a book I had to read in one night or so for a Theology class, so I've been wanting to revisit it and take the time to actually process what it says (instead of skimming it through just to grab some supporting evidence for an essay worth 50 points).

His first sentence hit me in the gut. "Christian theology teaches the doctrine of prevenient grace, which, briefly stated, means that before a man can seek God, God must first have sought the man. ... We pursue God because, and only because, He has first put an urge within us that spurs us to the pursuit."

There you have it. My first big lesson of the week: He started it. God did, I mean.

We're not chasing after a God that runs away from us. We hunger and thirst for Him because He put the desire in us. When dealing with other people, it can be easy for me to let my confidence slip if I'm not sure of where I stand. I'll put off or avoid calling or writing friends because that nagging voice creeps in: why am I assuming that these people actually want to talk to me? I wonder. My brain knows better than to buy into those lies, but sometimes that insecurity lingers in my heart. That's what's so beautiful about the pursuit of God: He called me first, and I can eagerly and wholeheartedly respond to His love because I know beyond a doubt where I stand with Him: I am loved. I am desired. I can approach the throne of grace with confidence (Heb. 4:16), knowing that the God who bade me seek His face (Ps. 27:8) will hear and answer my cry to know Him more (1 John 5:14-15).

Which leads into the second major lesson that I gleaned from Chapter One: "There is little that we need other than God himself. ... Lift up thine heart unto God with a meek stirring of love; and mean Himself, and none of his goods."

Ahhh, Tozer. You're piercing my heart. I know that this is true, yet often I find myself seeking the goods instead of seeking God. It is so easy to surrender all of my time to the "important" tasks that really don't matter: preparing a Sunday School or Youth Group lesson, nailing down those Car Rally details, printing off lyrics for worship practice. I'm doing all this for God, right? But he doesn't want me to just do things for Him. He wants me to do things with Him. I want so badly to have a heart that longs for and delights in God alone, and is content with knowing Him instead of trying to achieve and perform. But so often I feel like I don't even know what that looks like. He's calling me to Him... but whenever I try to "quiet down my busy mind and find a hiding place," the to-do lists only scream louder, clamoring for my time and attention. Usually I divert my attention as requested; I can cross one more item off of "the list," but I haven't spent any time with my Savior. Exactly what I don't need.

I'll end this particular musing with Tozer's prayer, because it echoes very eloquently the longing of my heart.

O God, I have tasted Thy goodness, and it has both satisfied me and made me thirsty for more. I am painfully conscious of my need of further grace. I am ashamed of my lack of desire. O God, the Triune God, I want to want Thee; I long to be filled with longing; I thirst to be made more thirsty still. Show me Thy glory, I pray Thee, that so I may know Thee indeed. Begin in mercy a new work of love within me. Say to my soul, "Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away." Then give me grace to rise and follow Thee up from this misty lowland where I have wandered so long.
In Jesus' name.
Amen.

sustained silent sunday school

The inevitable has occurred: I've finally gotten sick. The sleep deprivation, frequent contact with sniffly kids, and failure to drink the recommended eight 8-oz glasses of water per day has caused my immune system to finally crack. I'm spending the afternoon in bed sleeping, crocheting, reading, and drinking tea. I'm achy, my head is pounding, and my throat is an odd combination of phlegmy and scratchy. Gotta love it.

It's always amazing to me, however, how God picks the moments when we're at our worst to show us what He's capable of. One of my duties right now is to teach the middle school Sunday School class. I didn't have a great lesson planned this morning; all I really wanted to do was use my voice as little as possible and stay as far away from the kids as I could. So I printed off copies of Psalm 27 and handed them out along with a blank sheet of paper. I spaced the students out across the room and told them to read through the Psalm a couple of times, then take about a half an hour to respond to it. They could write, draw, whatever- as long as they were responding in some way to the Psalm.

After a half-hour of near-silence (which, I'm telling you, is quite amazing for this bunch), they returned to the circle and we shared what we did. I was completely blown away. One girl - a sixth grader - had gone through and highlighted the whole Psalm, color-coding it so that lines with a similar meaning had the same color. She then drew a picture, using the colors so that the elements of the picture corresponded to the elements in the Psalm. That's the kind of dissection that I did in my college classes. When I asked her about it, she said that was the first time she'd ever read anything that way. Another guy, a seventh-grader, drew a picture of David falling down towards his enemies, with God's hands in the middle waiting to catch him. He drew holes in God's hands to show that God is Jesus.

It was exciting to see their responses. The initial reaction - which I had expected - was one of confused skepticism. Did I really expect them to sit quietly for a whole half hour?! But by the end, they all came up with great stuff. I only told you about two of them, but the other kids had great drawings and writings, too. And they were all enthusiastic about sharing what they had come up with. I loved it. I handed them the page, stepped out of the way, and let God's word do its thing.

"For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart." -Hebrews 4:12, ESV

please and thank you

It's 9:30 pm. I'm sitting at my kitchen bar with Stheve (my laptop... yes, it's spelled right), a mug of green tea, and a hastily assembled veggie-stir-fry-wrap-thing that I'm calling dinner.

I just got back from meeting with a group of students at Starbucks. About halfway through our time there, I went up to the counter to get an ice water. I think my exact wording was, "Could I have a large ice water please?"

The barista looked at me. "Thanks for saying 'please'," she said earnestly as she began to fill a glass. "It gets you a lot farther in this world than you think."

Her comment really struck me. How often to we sail through life, treating other people as objects, or merely means to an end? How often do we assume (unconsciously) that because we're only interacting with a person for a few moments out of our lives, that interaction can't be significant? A kind word - even just eye contact and a smile - can make a far bigger impact than we tend to think. Every time I talk to another person, I'm talking to someone that is created in the image of God. Every interaction, however slight, is an opportunity to communicate God's love. I wish I remembered that more often.

Faith my eyes

"Faith never knows where it is being led, but it loves and knows the One who is leading." --Oswald Chambers

the story of love

If you could show me the story of love
I would write it again and again

I was listening to Caedmon's Call's 40 Acres CD the other day as I was madly wrapping presents at the store, and these lyrics grabbed at my attention. They have come to mind a lot recently as I have been wrestling with some of the ways that God is working in my life. Why on earth would God do that?, I wonder. That's not normal! He hasn't worked in this way in my friends' lives! I question whether or not things really are from God when they don't fit "the pattern" that I see in books or in the lives of those around me.

Despite my questioning, every time I quiet my heart and listen for God's voice, he gives me confirmation.

"Is what I'm telling you contrary to scripture?" he prods.

"No," I grudgingly admit.

"Have trusted friends who love Me balked when you've sought their advice?"

"No, they've been supportive."

"Then basically, you're just squirming because you're in unfamiliar territory and you don't know what the future holds or where I'll lead you, right?"

"I guess, yeah. Okay. You're right." I mumble.

"Then give me a little credit here! I created you for a purpose. I love you and will never leave you or forsake you. I know you better than you know yourself: I am acquainted with all your ways, and I know your words before they ever reach your tongue. I have known what each day of your life will hold before even one of them came to be. Just trust in me with all of your heart, and don't try to lean on your own understanding. Acknowledge me in everything you do, and I will make your paths straight. Don't be wise in your own eyes: just fear me, and turn away from evil. If you seek my kingdom above all else, I will provide you with everything you need. I made you unique, with unique gifts, a unique personality, and a unique story: why do you feel like you have to compare your life to the lives around you? Don't judge yourself against them. It is before your own master that you stand or fall. And you will be upheld, because I am able to make you stand." (Joshua 1:1-9 / Psalm 139 / Proverbs 3:5-7 / Matthew 6:31-34 / 1 Corinthians 12:14-20 / Romans 14:4)

That's what is so beautiful about Jesus. His is the story of Love. And then God writes that story again and again, differently in each of our lives. It never gets old, boring, or worn-out; each of us have been created uniquely with different personalities and circumstances, so the story is different every time. But it's still the same story: the story of Love. The story of God loving us so much that he became one of us, suffered death, and rose again - all in order to restore our relationship with him. If my Savior loves me that much, whom have I to fear?